Weather the Storm
by Pappenheimer
Summary: When three Imperials are thrown through the Warp and wake up in 2015 Queens, they must adapt and overcome the obstacles thrown their way as they seek to find a way home. Or, when Peter Parker find three bodies in an alley that aren't attending some weird convention, he must help them adapt to life in New York. [[Warhammer and Marvel AUs/fusion fic? Is that the term?]]
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 **999.M41, Ultima Segmentum, Vegzet 1, A Daemon-World**

They had been so close. They had been dropped to the world to aid the Adeptus Mechanicus - the Machine Cult of Mars - to retrieve an artifact the Explorator had located. Located deep within the Ultima Segmentum, it had been a hazardous flight. Daemons, Chaos-worshipers and natural hazards has plagued their ships as they made their journey. And now, retrieving the artifact was proving to be equally deadly.

They were a combined force of Mechanicus and Terra soldiers, united in arms on this frozen desert world. A contingent of Tech Priests and Cadian troopers, they were dropped to the hostile surface of Vegzet 1 on the united order of the Explorator and Commissar General. Those who orders they followed spoke with the authority of the God-Emperor of Mankind and the Omnissiah. In turn, they themselves were merely pawns with which the Emperor could assert his will.

One Cadian regiment was locked in a heated battle with Chaos-worshippers – beings who had once been men, they willingly sacrificed their humanity to become something more, something corrupted, something twisted. Their bodies changed. The Chaos gods – Khorne, Nurgle, Slaanesh, and Tzeentch – all had different ways of manifesting their favor on their followers. To the forces of the empire, the followers of Chaos had a very simple name: heretic. It was just the luck of these Imperial soldiers that the heretics they were fighting were followers of Tzeentch. Not only did they need to fight through the oppressive firepower of the enemy, but they had to further keep their guard up against the attacks of those enhanced psykers.

The Cadian regiment was drawing the fire of those heretics away from their Mechanicus brethren. Commissar Kasia Poltava was a younger commissar - a Vostroyan in her early forties - assigned to this Cadian regiment to "keep morale" during the mission. Her presence was not one entirely wanted. Often, there was a deep divide between commissars and their men. The commissar's served to keep the sharpened blade of the Imperial Force swinging true against the enemies of mankind, killing those who would invite corruption from within. Guardsmen, on the other hand, merely wanted to live to see another day. If they so much as sneezed in the wrong direction, many worse commissars could perceive such an action as a prayer to Papa Nurgle, god of disease, and rightly end that guardsman's life. With such "trigger-happy" commissars in the ranks, some guardsmen did find ways to discreetly "lose track" of their commissars, thus preserving their own lives.

It was Commissar Poltava's first battle with these Cadians. Their bonds untested, the Cadians didn't trust her, and, frankly, she held no keen love for them, either.

Kasia stood while riding on the Chimera designated to her regiment. No sooner had she put her torso did a shot tear through her arm. She winced, biting down the pain. Her men must not see her falter. That would be heresy.

Instead, she steeled her breath. "Forward, men! The relic must be secured!" she bellowed, her strong voice carrying over the sounds of chainswords, bolters, and missiles firing. The Cadians under her charge mustered their strength for another push of force against the heretics. As they pushed forward, Kasia looked up too late to stop it. Some Chaos Psyker had been conducting some ritual. A guardsman noticed and shouted a call, directing fire to its location. It was too little, too late.

They accepted death. They knew their fates. It was the very basics of their service to the Emperor. However, they had not expected to be thrown into the Warp.

* * *

 **AN** : Let's go on an adventure, shall we? My knowledge of the 40k universe is small, but I'm reading the books and things as I write this, so my competency will grow. I just really enjoyed some of the other fanfic currently out there of basically "40k people appearing where they shouldn't." The one's I've seen focused on either individuals or entire ships getting thrown. I think there was one Mass Effect crossover that's still in progress where a small Inquisitorial band and some Eldar suffered Warp shenanigans. I want my story to focus on what would happen if the little guys got the short-end of the Warp. Would they blend into the regular world? Would they resist? Would the Warp continue to screw things up for all parties involved?

I do not own Marvel, the Avengers, Warhammer 40k, GW, etc. This is a fan work purely for fun, and is in no way canon or representative of the source materials.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **015.M3, Segmentum Solar, Solar Sector, Sol Subsector, Sol System, Terra**

The Warp unceremoniously deposited three souls onto the dirty pavement of some dank alley. While both were filthy, the people held a different sort of dirt than the alley surrounding them. The air smelt of fermenting garbage and the ripe tang of too many people living in too small an area. The three people smelt of war: must of the battered earth, acrid smoke from fires natural, electrical, and supernatural. They were all bloodied.

The one garbed in red robes was the first to show any forms of movement.

++Systems Initializing++

The lump of red fabric made a whirring sound, like a computer booting.

++Initializing Diagnostics++

++Mechadendrites: offline++

++C: Drive: initializing++

++Servos: initializing++

++Bionics: initializing++

The red lump stirred as its limbs came to life. Its bionic lungs inhaled and its glowing green optics took in the world about it.

++Air Quality Index: Excellent++

++Temperature: 21C++

++Local time: Unknown++

++Location: City. Verification necessary++

The red figure forced itself upright, its head looking back and forth as it further examined the area. It paused as its sight fell upon the other two prone figures. One was a youth, his flak jacket and fatigues torn and bloodied, lasgun at his side, and numerous other munitions hidden about his person - a Cadian Shock Trooper. The other was a woman in a heavily embroidered coat and peaked hat with a long power sword and bolt pistol held limply in her hands. A commissar.

The Tech Priest, considering that it was alive, made the leap to the logical conclusion that they had not died when they were sent through the Warp. Instead it would seem they were sent… somewhere else. Which, when considering the fickle, mutable nature of the Warp and Chaos, is expected. But it was more the matter of where and when that gave its travelers pause.

* * *

Spider-Man was swinging over the streets of Queens. School had let out a few hours earlier, and the wall-crawler had met up with his best friend, Ned Leeds, for homework and vigilante planning. They'd developed a system where Ned could monitor calls to the police and relay that information to Peter out on the streets. It was working for them so far. Besides taking out thugs and stopping robberies, Pete's reputation had begun to grow in other circles. Villains as Doc Ock and the Green Goblin began to rise to challenge the do-gooder.

"Any news yet?" Spider-Man asked impatiently.

"Mmm, nothing yet," replied Ned

"Really? I've been swinging for like, what? A half-hour? And nothing?"

"Nope. Nada. And you've only been out there 28 minutes."

"Who's counting, anyways? Can you try another channel?"

"Yeah – there's nothing besides some regular low-key stuff that they've already got guys on."

"Wait," Spider-man said, spying a mechanically-appendaged figure maneuvering something in an alley.

"Yeah?"

"What has Doc Ock been up to lately?"

"Besides the big thing from last month? He's been keeping pretty quiet – staying out of the headlines. Why?"

"Because I think he's up to something."

"Shit, dude. Keep me updated."

"I'll try," Spider-Man said before turning his full attention to the suspicious alley.

He swung himself to the entrance of the alley, landing light as a cat. He was rather proud of himself for pulling off such a quiet landing. He was sure he would catch Doc Ock surprised this time.

"Hey, Doc, remember me?" Spider-Man said as he shot webs at the mechanical limbs. He was surprised when the figure actually dodged the webs. He was further surprised when the figure looked up from what it had been doing with a distinctly non-Doc Ock face.

"Um, hey. Sorry. I must have mistook you for someone else. One of those faces, amiright?" Spider-Man quickly, said backpedaling.

The thing growled something. It sounded a bit like an old dial-up connection. Something definitely no human could make.

"Hey, uh, Ned? I've got a bit of a situation here. Doc Ock hasn't been researching robots, right?"

"Let me get on that for you."

"Do hurry. I think I upset this robot," Peter said as the red robed figure advanced, the mechanical limbs on its back moving snakelike and smooth.

" _Ubi sumus? Quid est mundus?_ " the thing growled.

"Um, no comprendo? Hey, Ned? Do you know Latin or anything? Angry robot seems to know Latin."

"Hold on Spidey. First, no. Doc Ock's been with his usual. No word on attempts at mind-control or anything. Second, Latin? Really?"

"Yes, really!"

" _Nam Gloria Omnissiah, Dicere! Loqui! Orate!_ " the red-robe spat angrily in its mechanically flat voice. " _Ubi sumus?_ "

"Um, yeah. Mr. Roboto, Yo no comprendo what-o you're saying. I don't know what you're talking about! And Ned, find out what 'Ubi Sumus' means. I think my life depends on it," Spidey said.

They were in a stand-still. The red-robed figure stopped its advance, and Spider-man was too afraid to move. He didn't want to take any actions that could be perceived as hostile. He didn't know what would set this crazy robot off. He leaned to the side slightly, trying to get a better idea at the figures the thing had been moving. There was one woman in a heavily embroidered jacket. She was rather severe-looking. Peter didn't think he would like to get on her bad side when she became conscious. He looked at the other figure. A boy, the calm of his youthful unconscious face made him look only a couple years older that himself, but the guy was dressed in full combat gear. Flak jacket, fatigues, boots, and the strangest, bulkiest gun he'd ever seen. Was there some sort of convention in town? Who was he kidding. This was New York. There'd always be some weirdo with a military fetish. Just his luck that two of them would be… kidnapped? Mugged? Whatever this situation is, together.

After what felt like an eternity, Ned replied. "Spidey, that phrase means 'Where are we?' Looks like Mr. Angry Roboto doesn't know where it is."

"Thanks, Ned," Spidey quietly replied through the earpiece. "Um, hey. New York City? You're in Queens, New York?"

The red-robe did not respond. At least, not immediately.

" _Query: Quid est "New York City"?_ "

"Oh my God, Ned, he doesn't know where New York is," he muttered to his friend. "Um, what about United States of America? Earth?

"Earth?" the thing said. Its oculars dimmed before flaring. " _Earth… est Terra. Sancta Terra. Gratias civis. Gloria Omnissiah._ " It made a strange sign with its hands. The knuckles interlocked and it bowed to Spidey.

"Hey, Ned – good news: Mr. Roboto no longer wants to kill me."

"Really? What's it doing now?"

"It's… examining the bodies."

"Woah. Woah woah woah. You said nothing about bodies. Plural. With an S. This is serious stuff, man. Do you want me to call back up? I can call back up right now. I've got the police on speed-dial."

"No, just, hold on. Not yet. I want to see what he does."

"Ay, man, just let me know before you join them."

Spider-Man cautiously inched toward the red-robe and other two figures.

"Um, hey. I don't know much in the way of medicine, but we all had to take this first-aid course in school. Maybe I could help?" he hazarded, his voice scratchy and horrendously adolescent.

The red-robed figure turned and look at him.

"Right. What am I even saying? You can't even understand me!"

"No. Say. _Transferendum_. Learn," the red-robed thing replied.

"Uh, so you're learning English by me speaking it?"

"Yes. What you speak has been added to the Lingua Compendium."

"Uh, yeah, I don't think I want to even ask about that. What about these guys here. Are they gonna be okay?" _Do you want them to be okay?_ Spider-man hoped.

"Travel through Immaterium always a risk," the red-robe replied.

"Are you sure you don't need a hospital or something? I can call an ambulance so some doctors can look at these two here, or there's some homeless shelters where you can stay the night."

"No. I watch. We survive."

"Really? Because it really looks like those two need some medical attention. She's got - Jesus! Her arm's bleeding! And the kid, he's probably got a concussion or something."

"I watch. I tend."

"Yeah, I'm sure you do. You'll watch them bleed to death. Ned, do me a favor. Get me an ambulance. One's been shot with I don't know what and the other's unconscious."

"You got it. Emergency personnel should be arriving within 10 minutes," Ned replied.

"And you, Mr. Roboto, should probably remove the getup. You stick out like a sore thumb."

"Query: What is 'Getup'?" the red-robed replied.

"Uh, costume. Like what I'm wearing. It keeps you incognito so people don't find out who you really are?" Spider-man answered.

The red-robed figure nodded in understanding at the statement.

"Enginseer Linux, Adeptus Mechanicus," The being said as it lowered its hood. It face can only be described as humanoid. It was once human, but it had been so thoroughly modified by bionics and mechanical additions that it was difficult to affirm that the thing standing before Spidey was still human. Tubes snaked out of the things mouth, and a strange device was situated on the neck. Its eyes were replaced by optical sensors, and a plethora of other wires and tubes crowned the things head like some gruesome halo. Unconsciously, Spider-man took a step back.

"Um, yeah. Linux? Normal people… I don't even know where to begin."

"I will accompany these two with the local Medicae," Linux said.

"Yeah, the doctors aren't going to have any problem with _them_ , but... "

"Comprehension not reached. Will accompany the local Medicae."

Spider-man placed a hand to his head in frustration. This was so weird.

"Dude, you look like some alien! The doc's're gonna freak when they see you!"

"Comprehension not reached. This one is not xeno."

"Hey, Ned? How much longer for the ambulances? I don't think I'm gonna be able to get of here before they arrive," Spider-man voiced to his friend.

"Gimme a sec - about 5 minutes. Why? Did Mr. Roboto do anything?"

"No. Linux - Mr. Roboto - doesn't want to leave the bodies. I think I'm gonna have to stay and smooth things over as Spidey."

"Wait, you said his name's Linux? Haha! He's gotta be some sort of huge nerd. You say he's friendly now?"

"Not quite friendly, just not actively killing me yet."

"Okay, well, that's a start. Man, I'd love to meet him,"

"Yeah," Spidey said, glancing back over at the cyborg, "I'm sure the two of you would get along just fine. You could talk about the rigs you've got set up, but I'm think his would beat yours - wait, I think I hear the sirens now."

True enough, Linux also seemed to be listening intently to the crescendo of the wailing sirens.

Moments later, the ambulances arrived.

"... Two bodies, one shot - the male needs triage," the EMT's said as they swiftly exited the vehicles with their equipment. "Oh, wow! Spidey's here! Hey, Spider-man, what happened?" one of the older EMT's asked upon seeing the young superhero.

Spider-man cleared his throat in an attempt to deepen his voice with authority. "Uh, two civilians were found here in this alley -"

"Medicae: Commissar and guardsman were engaged with the Cultists. Rift in the Immaterium was opened. Two squads from the Cadian 1214th were lost to the Warp. Status of allies unknown. Commissar and guardsman are survivors."

The medic shifted his look from Spider-man to the red-robed figure when it interrupted Spider-man. In disbelief, the medic looked back to Spider-man as if hoping the hero would dismiss what the thing was saying as some sort of made-up crack dream. Spider-man did nothing but shrug in defeat.

By this point, the two bodies had been loaded into the ambulances. Linux looked over as the doors of the vehicles were slammed shut.

"I assist," Linux said in his mechanical voice.

"Okay, well, there's two ambulances. You can only ride along in one. Which'll it be?" the EMT asked, obviously holding judgement.

"The Commissar," Linux answered after a pause.

"I'll ride along with the kid. Wouldn't want him to wake up alone," Spider-man said.

"Alright, then," the EMT said skeptically. He wasn't fond of the idea of having the strange-looking guy riding next to him in the ambulance, but if a hero was giving the okay, he wasn't going to argue. At this point, he just wanted to get the Jane Doe to the hospital and finish his shift.

* * *

Spider-man sat on the jumpseat near the gurney as the ambulance sped along the road, jostling the medics and their equipment as they went. As a 15-year old kid, there really wasn't much he could, so he sat there in quiet support. As Spider-man, his presence seemed to set the medics a little more at ease, because, hey, there's a hero who'll save the day.

The medics were quickly trying to triage the kid on the gurney.

"Airway's clear!" one EMT shouted.

"Patient's breathing!"

"Blood pressure's low. Possible syncope."

"I'll start the IV. Get me access to his arm."

"On it." The medic moved to further devest the kid of his clothes. They all took a sharp breath as they took in the kid's scars.

"Christ…" one mutter.

"Hey, Spidey?

"Yeah?"

"Where'd you say you found these guys?"

"Just in an alley - I thought they were cosplayers or something."

"Well, this kids' been through hell. Scar's everywhere, and with that uniform getup, I'd suspect something like a child soldier, but I don't recognize any of the insignias."

Spider-man frown beneath his mask.

"Hey, uh, do you mind if I can get a look at the insignia?"

"Wha- oh, here," the medic said, depositing a small golden pin into his hands. A double-headed eagle.

"Oh, sh-," Spider-man cut himself off, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism. Carefully, he touched the communicator in his ear. "Hey, Ned, you still there, man?"

"Still here. Those ambulances get to you yet?"

"Yeah. I think the situations' developed more. I think we've got some," he glanced up quickly at the medics who were still working on the kid, "HYDRA agents," he finished in a whisper.

"Shit. Seriously? HYDRA? You think Doc Ock's working with HYDRA?"

"I don't think Doc OCK's a player in this, but I definitely found a double-headed eagle on the kid."

"Double-headed Eagle? Isn't that more Nazi than HYDRA?"

"Yeah, but Mr. Roboto looks more like some experiment gone wrong, and the kid looks like a child-soldier."

"Seriously? Dude! This is insane! You want me to try contacting Fury?"

"Yeah. This is getting really weird, really fast."

"On it - Ned out"

One of the medics had moved to examine the kids' eyes. "Pupils dilate," the medic said, "but I've never seen iris's this color."

"What do you mean? Wow. You're sure those aren't contacts?" the other replied, leaning in to see the wounded kid.

"I'm sure. See, no lenses, and look at the pupil. It's all natural."

"What's going on?" Spider-man asked.

"Johnny Doe here's got purple eyes."

* * *

They arrived at the hospital not too much later. Quickly, they wheeled their charged into the Emergency Care bay. Spider-man hopped out of the ambulance, trying to stay out of the way of the bustling emergency personnel. There was a small group of nurses standing about on a smoke break. They were discussing one of the newest charges.

"Couldn't understand a word of what she was saying," said one.

"Nearly broke my nose with her fist," another said, shaking his head.

Spider-man ambled over to the group. "Hey, do you know if there's a woman in there. Unconscious?"

One of the nurses just raised her eye before taking another drag on her cigarette. "You're gonna have to go through the administration desk. HIPAA."

As Spider-man entered the hospital and began to search for the desk, he heard the overhead voice calmly sound.

" _Code Grey, Emergency Department. Code Grey, Emergency Department. Code Grey, Emergency Department_."

 _Oh, no,_ Spider-man thought to himself. Quickly, he picked up his pace, dodging around distressed families and friends and health care providers seeking to get away from the combative person responsible for the code. As he neared the emergency department, he heard a woman shouting. Harsh, shrill, and that sort of pseudo-latin he'd heard from that cyborg. Turning a corner, he came into the department proper. From where he was, he could see the red-robed figure standing over one of the beds in a bay, almost all of its limbs in use holding the agitated patient down, with one free limb holding the doctor and nurses back.

"Woah, hey, what happened?" Spider-man asked the nearest nurse.

"Jane there woke up," the nurse said, pointing, "Her friend there was kind enough to restrain her, but he won't let any of close enough to sedate her."

Spider-man looked back to the strange duo. The woman's face was contorted in something of rage - brows furrowed, teeth bared in a snarl. She barked something incomprehensible, to which Linux replied with something equally incomprehensible.

* * *

Enginseer Linux was busy restraining the Commissar down and fending off the strange, heretikal medicae. There was so much _wrong_ in this hospital. The medicae used equipment without appeasing the machine spirits! No one chanting prayers, honoring the Omnissiah or praying for any sort of divine intercession. The medicine itself, though, appeared exceptional, as if it were pre-Age of Strife. While he lacked an expertise on medicine currently, he noted to himself that this place's medicine would be something to look into. Perhaps he would be able to find a way to remove the heretical components to use it without damnation.

And then there was the commissar herself. The last thing the woman seemed to recollect was being surrounded by those cultists. In hindsight, it was good that these heretek medicae had removed her bolt pistol and power sword.

"No, you will not receive your arms back until you calm down," Linux told the Commissar.

"CALM DOWN? I have just been separated from my men, failed to terminate the heretical threat to the empire, and been sent through the FUCKING WARP and you want me to calm down? Give me my weapons so I can continue the Emperor's mission! We'll find out where we are, you can go back to Mars, and I can get back to protecting the Imperium."

"Holy Terra," Linux said simply.

"What?"

"You asked where we are. Holy Terra."

"Hah! No, this Emperor-forsaken backwater planet cannot be Holy Terra," the commissar said, shaking her head.

"I spoke with one in red and blue. They speak an extremely ancient dialect of High Gothic. I have heard enough of them speak that I have a rudimentary lingua translator spirit in development. It has been aiding me in conversing with the local citizens."

"Well, then, what is the date?"

"I have not ascertained the precise Imperial date."

"Then go and ask your red and blue friend. I'm sure he be more than willing to enlighten us," the commissar replied acerbically. "Hey, kid! What's the Imperial Date?"

"He can't understand you," Linux replied, looking at the kid in the tight red and blue suit. He still couldn't understand what sort of ministerium the boy would be in to designate that uniform. Still, he decided to inquire for the commissar.

" _What is the date?_ " Linux asked, beckoning for the boy dressed in the red and blue to come closer.

With some amount of trepidation, the boy closed the distance. " _What?_ " the boy replied.

" _The date. What is the Imperial date?_ " Linux asked again.

" _Uh, I don't know much about the Japanese Imperial date - and I don't really know why you're interested - but it's currently 2015. Uh, August 27, if you really wanted to know._ "

" _2015? As in 015.M3?_ "

" _I'm gonna be honest with you. I have no idea what any of that means."_

 _"The 15th year of the 3rd millennium?"_

" _Well, if you put it that way, then yeah, I guess that's the date._ "

" _You_ guess _? Or you_ know _?_ " Linux further inquired.

" _Uh, I guess I know?_ "

Linux shook his head in exasperation.

"Well?" inquired the commissar.

"He says we are in the 3rd millennium. Well before the time of the Emperor and the Imperium."

The commissar, disgruntled, held her chin in her hands. Linux had removed his hold over her - she had calmed down well enough.

"Well. Our work is cut out for us. It looks like we'll have to find a way to survive here until we find our ways back to the front, then, won't we?" she replied after a bit of thought.

* * *

Spidey looked between Mr. Roboto and the woman lying in the bed. Linux had relaxed his grip on the woman, and she was no longer struggling so violently. Then, Linux questioned him on the date, as if this were some bad sci-fi novel involving time travelers or something. Still he offered it to the cyborg. The two continued to talk in that strange latin-esque language for some time more. Meanwhile, Spider-man tried to find out what the situation was with Ned.

"Hey. What'd they say?"

"Nothing. Couldn't get a line anywhere near Fury."

"Really? What'd you say?"

"I stressed the urgency of the situation and insisted to speak to Fury several times, but no matter who they bounced my calls to, I wasn't getting through to Fury," Ned replied.

"Well, did you try anyone else?"

"I tried Mr. Stark, since you have that "internship" with him, but, again, nada."

"Seriously? Dude, this is so not right. I don't know what I'm gonna do with them."

"Just leave them and continue as you always do."

"But Ned: they could be HYDRA agents of all things. I feel like we need to keep some sort of eye on them."

"Okay, so you set them up at some sort of homeless shelter and keep an eye on them. You are Spider-man, after all. I'm sure we could work up a system to monitor them."

"Yeah, but I think it's weird that Linux just asked me for the date. Can't tell if it was what he was expecting, but dude. Don't they only do that in movies and books?"

"That is majorly weird. What, do you think they're HYDRA experiments from the future?"

"I don't know. Wait. Hold on, Ned. Linux is headed my way."

"And dude, I still can't get over that name. Stay safe, man."

Enginseer Linux closed the distance with Spider-man, leaving the woman's side. She continued sitting upright in her bed, her stern, scarred face glaring at him. Honestly, if he hadn't met her when she was unconscious, he would have been unsure if she could make any other sort of expression. But Linux was back in his space.

"We will require aid," Linux said plainly.

"What?"

"Can we expect your aid in assimilation upon discharge from the medicae?"

"Um, yeah. I'll try to help you guys. Are all three of you together?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so once the three of you get discharged, we can look for jobs and a place for you guys to live. You do have somewhere you're going to sleep for now, right?"

"I will recharge in the hospital vestibule."

"Uh, yeah. I guess that can work for now."

"I will remain close to the Commissar."

"Who's the commissar?"

"Poltava. She is awake," Linux said, gesturing an augmented limb at the expectant woman.

"Okay. Is she always like that? Short-tempered, I mean?"

"She's a commissar."

"O…kay, then," Spidey said, assuming that was all the answer he was going to get. He glanced at the lonely clock on the wall. "Shit - uh, sorry for the language. Uh, I need to go, but I'll be back here later tomorrow."

"That is acceptable. I will fulfill compliance."

"Uh, you are free to move about. Just, I'll meet you at whichever room… Poltava or the other kid-"

"Guardsman Trembley"

"Trembley, then, whichever room someone's occupied. Agreed?"

"Acceptable."

* * *

 **AN:** So this is my first serious fanfic I've been working on. I realize the beginning is a bit rough, and there are some out of character moments for some people (along with the comment about Doc Ock - I realized several chapters after writing this that he exists after Pete went to college, but it was too golden of a moment to pass up). Just, suspend you belief and I'd love to hear feedback on speculation - I have a good chunk of the beginning down, and I have an ending in sight, but now I need to work on the journey to get them there. I do not own Marvel or the Avengers or GW or Warhammer 40k.

 **Update 11/10/2018** : Edited the date Peter gives. I guess I pasted the wrong draft of this here, and I noticed only now. Just a small detail, but enough of one that would annoy me if I was trying to follow anything chronologically. I also realized I was in a mind fog and wrote "commissioner" instead of "commissar" in a couple places. It has been fixed.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Queens, Afternoon**

Peter Parker had just finished enduring another day of school. He, Ned, and Michelle were walking home together. They would study, and then Ned and Pete would go off and play superhero. Michelle knew. Pete just wasn't quite sure what she thought of it. She would find ways to help him cover whenever he was "called to duty," but she never really brought it up. She would tease them to no avail, but with Michelle, Spider-man was the one topic she didn't broach.

Today was different, though. Instead of talking about homework and clubs and activities, their conversation steered to the events of yesterday, the run-in with the strange people found in the alley.

"So, you really think that these guys could be HYDRA, and you're still going back to them?" Ned asked.

"Sounds about right," Peter replied.

"Are you crazy? They could kill you! You don't know how dangerous they are!" he exclaimed.

"Ned does have a point. You said yourself that the robot-guy was holding that woman down," Michelle added. "But then, when do you ever follow the logical?"

"Okay, but if I keep them close, then I'll be the first to know if they're plotting anything," Peter said, tapping his forehead.

"Aren't you worried that they could figure out who you are? Track you down and hurt the people closest to you?" Ned asked.

"Well, they didn't really seem like they're from around here. Still, I'll just head in there as Spidey, and no one will be the wiser. I mean, they already know Spidey, so I doubt they'd recognize a kid or even want to cooperate with a 15-year-old," Peter rambled.

Michelle rolled her eyes. "So tell me, genius: why didn't you just call the cops and let them sort it out?" Michelle retorted.

"I didn't – actually, that's a very valid point. But I maintain that I was more concerned with their wellbeing," Peter replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "C'mon, both were unconscious and one was shot. Obviously, the hospital takes precedence over the police. But, you know what? Come to think of it, I did try to call in some support. I can't help it if Mr. Stark and Director Fury won't take me seriously," Peter said.

"Oh, yeah! They kept blocking all my calls!" Ned said in agreement.

"You know what? I don't care. Just as long as you show up to practice, I don't care what you do."

* * *

It was evening and Peter found himself walking back into the hospital. He approached the reception desk, intent on following through and meeting up with Linux again. The guy's looks and story were just too weird. They almost reminded him a bit of Thor – torn from the world they'd known – only a lot nastier. Maybe Loki, then? That was beside the point.

"How can I help you?" the young lady seated behind the counter asked robotically before looking up. Upon seeing Spider-man, she blushed a little and smiled a little more genuinely.

"I'm looking for two rooms. Are Poltava or Trembley in the system?"

"Hold on, let me look this up for you," the girl said, typing away at the keyboard. "Aha! Here. It looks like Poltava checked out earlier today, but Trembley's still here. Room 563, bed B."

"Thank you," Spider-man said as he made his way to the elevator.

* * *

His heart was racing as the elevator dinged, letting him off on the floor. He didn't quite know what to expect, but he was fearing the worst. He couldn't imagine the Commissar being anywhere near the hospital, especially after what happened the night before. At the same time, he was worried of what trouble she could instigate. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as the door came into view. Taking a deep breath, he knocked as he entered the room, expecting the worst.

Samuel Trembley was sitting upright in the bed, engaged in conversation with Linux and the Commissar. He had the white linens pulled up over his legs and the hospital gown covered much of his torso, but the skin on his forearms were crisscrossed with scars. While the Commissar was stern and Linux was unreadable, Sam adopted a small smile. He appeared as if he'd been told a great burden had been spared him. Spider-man exhaled in relief as he neared the trio.

"Hey, I'm back," said Spider-man.

"As expected," replied Linux.

The Commissar said something in her language that was too quick for Spidey to catch. Linux seemed to nod his head in understanding.

"This one went in search of private quarters. The citizens did not take this one's thrones. This one does not have authority to requisition quarters, but the Commissar will."

As Linux spoke, the Commissar's lips drew tight and she folded her arms across her chest. Peter felt keenly aware of her hawkish gaze. Slowly, comprehension of what Linux had said dawned across Spider-man's masked features.

"You're trying to get a house!"

"That is correct."

"Well, if you're thinking about living here in the city, you'd probably be better off renting – though if you want to buy, I know a lot of people live closer to the limits. It's cheaper that way."

"Your governor does not provide all citizens with housing?" Linux further inquired.

"No. Everyone here works, they make some money, and they use that money to buy things, like cars, a house, computers."

"Technology can be bought?"

"Yeah. Some stuff is more expensive, like gaming station and heavy gaming computers, but there are smaller items that are cheaper, but they don't work as well."

"Are there toasters?"

"Uh, unless you and I have different definitions of what toasters are, yeah. I can help you purchase one once you have a place to live."

Linux paused before quickly talking to the Commissar. Peter assumed he was translating. The Commissar frowned at something Linux said, looking rather exasperated. When Linux spoke to Peter again, the Tech Priest sounded almost happy.

"This one desires to gain an occupation to purchase toasters."

"Okay, well, considering that you don't have any money-"

"Correction: We have throne gelts the citizens refuse to accept," Linux interrupted.

"-accepted here," Spider-man gave a look to Linux before continuing, "I can recommend you to this shelter here," he said, pulling out his smartphone and pulling up the location of one of the homeless shelters on the map app.

Linux went silent for a moment before gingerly extending two bionic arms. It was as if the smartphone that Peter held in his hands with its little colorful touchscreen was a sacred artifact.

"May I?" Linux asked reverently.

"Uh, yeah. Just, don't navigate from the page."

Carefully, Enginseer Linux accepted the phone into his hands. He held it for a moment, as if unsure of what to do. Peter supposed it was probably just his way of memorizing the route to the destination on the screen. He didn't think anything of it. Then, the Enginseer did something with his hands. It looked like he selected some wire attachment from his wrist. Only after Linux made the connection and the screen flicker through several screens in seconds did Peter realize what was happening.

"No!" he said, yanking the phone out of the Tech Priest's hands, severing the connection. Linux merely looked at him, as if unsure of what action that he had taken was wrong. The Commissar voiced something and the Enginseer replied in kind.

"Have I erred?" Linux asked.

"What were you doing with my phone," Spider-man asked crossly.

"I was attempting to reconcile with the Machine Spirit. It was willing, innocent."

"I don't even know what that means, but stay out of my phone. It's personal," Spider-man reprimanded Linux.

"I will keep that in mind, Peter Parker."

Spider-man's breath caught in his throat. How much did Linux glean from just those few seconds of interaction with his phone?

He looked at Linux square in the oculars. "You can _never_ say that name when I am dressed like this. Only call me 'Spider-man'," Peter said gravely.

"Understood, Spider-man."

"I need to go," Peter said, practically fleeing the room.

* * *

"Well, that could have gone better," Commissar Poltava remarked. "I was trying to remind you that regular people don't typically like having other people touch their guns. Not quite sure what that little map meant, but it certainly seemed personal to 'Spider-man.'"

"That Machine Spirit. It was not alone. I gleaned what I could from the little Spirit – there were no firewalls or counter-viruses or anything. It was beautiful how innocent the technology was. And it showed me there are so many more of them out there, all connected. But, I could not ask it what rituals the civilians here perform for the little Spirits. The connection was terminated too quickly. I will need to make amends the next time we meet."

Poltava looked to Pvt Trembley. "How are you feeling now?"

"Much better. A lot less pressure in the head."

"Good. Sounds like you're recovering well from the Warp-sickness. How are your legs? The connection still sound? Does Enginseer Linux need to calibrate them at all?"

"The connection seems well enough, but I don't know if I'll get another chance, so I'll take it while it's offered," Sam replied.

Poltava looked to the Tech Priest and gestured to Trembley. "Can you do a calibration now?"

"Affirmative," Linux responded, sweeping back the linen covers to access Sam's legs.

They were solid grey things, composed of durable plasteel. Light without sacrificing integrity. The Tech Priest brought all of his limbs into play as he began the calibrations process. Connections were tightened and screws realigned, the adjustments were made with such precision to be almost unnoticeable to the naked eye. But then, the Tech Priest's own eyes were augmented, so that he could better see the workings of his craft.

"Calibrations complete," Linux said, tucking the extra limbs and tools beneath his red robes.

Just as his robes finished settling back into place, more people entered the room. Poltava, Linux, and Trembley looked to see who these newcomers were.

" _He's just inside, officers. He woke only a few hours ago,_ " the nurse informed the two officers in blue as they entered. Then, she saw the other two visitors in the room. " _Hey, you're not supposed to be here!_ "

Commissar Poltava looked to Linux in confusion. He offered her a quick translation.

Before any of the Imperials had a chance to voice any dissent, one of the officers began to approach Poltava.

" _Ma'am, we have reasonable suspicion that you're connected to the abuse case of one Samuel Trembley._ " At the mention of his name, Sam looked between the officers, his Commissar, and the Tech Priest.

" _Ma'am, we're just going to cuff your hands and take you back to the station._ "

Commissar Poltava quickly snatched her hands away and took a step back.

"Enginseer, who are they? What are they doing?" she quickly snarled at the Tech Priest.

"They appear to be the local Arbites," Linux replied.

" _Hey, talk in English. We need to be able to understand you,_ " one officer demanded.

" _Excuse us, Arbiters, we are new to this Sector. We have not willing broken the Code of Law of this system. May you be merciful in your execution of judgement,_ " Linux appeal, humbling himself as he made the sign of the cog with his hands.

When faced with the Adeptus Arbites of the Imperium, one did not hold high hopes. Arbites are the judge, jury, and executioners of the Lex Imperialis, and if one catches any citizen of committing a crime, then that citizen becomes a dead man walking while the Arbites executes their justice. In the Imperium, there are no second chances. All Commissar Poltava and Private Trembley were hoping was that Enginseer Linux would be able to buy them enough time to get away. If they went with these local Arbites, then they are dead.

Discreetly, Poltava checked the window, trying to gauge the distance to the ground. She grit her teeth. They were on the 5th floor. Perhaps if they tried to scale the wall? No, the Guardsman didn't yet have his equipment back.

"Linux, help me make a distraction. Trembley's going to retrieve his equipment from the lockers. We'll regroup outside the hospital. Keep your vox-beads on!" Poltava quickly ordered. "Now!"

At once, Enginseer Linux turned into a flurry, mechanical limbs flying about. Both officers were forced back and the nurse went running.

«Path to hallway cleared,» intoned the Tech Priest.

«Good. Keep them off us, Linux. I'm with Trembley – we're headed to the personal effects lockers,» Commissar Poltava said.

«Acknowledged.»

On the overhead, Linux heard the voice that had spoken when the Commissar woke.

" _Mobile Code Grey, Ward 5. Mobile Code Grey, Ward 5. Mobile Code Grey, Ward 5,_ " it intoned.

«Commissar, they are heralding reinforcements.»

«Understood.»

Sam Trembley followed close behind the Commissar as she plowed through the corridor, forcing nurses, orderlies, and janitors to leap out of the way or be knocked over in the rush. Sam, still not completely jaded by all he had seen, still muttered out quick "Sorry!"s and "Excuse me!"s as they pushed their way through.

Soon, the two arrived at the door. Poltava tried the handle. It was locked. She grabbed he power sword and thumbed the activation rune. The blade hummed to life with the blue glow of plasma. Quickly, she stabbed through the door, destroying the locking mechanism, and pushed it open. The room was empty, unsurprisingly, but rows of caged lockers lined the walled.

Just as quickly as she mutilated the door did Commissar Poltava slice off the lock to the cage housing the Guardsman's gear.

"Get dressed. I'll watch the door," she ordered.

«I am in the stairwell. Arbites have me cornered from above and below,» Linux updated over their vox channel.

«We've obtained Pvt Trembley's gear. Get yourself out,» Poltava replied.

«Acknowledged. Commencing self-extraction,» Linux said.

* * *

With the local Arbites cornering him from above and below, Linux had found himself trapped. Unable to advance up or down in the traditional safe sense, he gave a quick attempt to break the glass windows of the stairwell. Unfortunately for him the glass was reinforced, thick panes with metal inside – bullet proof and shatter proof to prevent patients from leaping to their deaths.

Linux turned his head, facing the only other alternative available to him. Quickly, his mechadendrites lashed out, grabbing hold of the metal railing while flinging his form over and down. He let himself drop several feet before reaching out with another mechadendrite in a controlled fall. He could see a flash of confusion cross the faces of the Arbites. He'd almost finished his descent when something landed on his back, sending volts of energy though his system.

=Error: Power Overload=

=Rerouting excess power to secondary systems=

He missed the last railing as his mechadendrites froze, and he hissed in binaric as he fell the remaining feet to the cement floor, collapsing with a muffled metallic "bang." To the cops above, it sounded like a computer had just been dropped, and was now hissing static and dial-up tones.

++Mechadendrites: critical failure++

++Mechadendrites: offline++

++Heart: arrhythmic++

++Restarting system in 59 seconds++

Linux hissed again in frustration, using his bionic arms to return himself upright. The mechadendrites harnessed to his back were now a dead weight until he could reach safety to restart his whole system. The Machine Spirit that operated his heart was protesting as he continued to push himself. He would not die today at the hands of these Arbites.

++Restart delayed++

++Restarting system in 5 minutes++

++164 programs terminated++

++Skitarii survival protocols enabled++

He could no longer understand what the Arbites were saying. He assumed the translation program was one of the terminated programs.

Linux stumbled on his feet as he rushed to a solid looking door labeled with white lettering on a red background. Considering it showed a picture of a person fleeing some thick squiggly lines – almost like a fire, he supposed – he pushed hard on the door.

He was met with sunlight, asphalt, and the sounds of automobiles running up and down the street not too far away. He was out of the hospital. Now it was time to regroup and lay low.

* * *

Once Sam had reclaimed his gear, he and his commissar met with little resistance as they raced for the hospital exit. Sam couldn't help but note the fear in everyone's eyes: patients, medicae, maintenance workers, and even the one Arbites they slipped past. Whenever Arbites were involved, fear was logical. Within a single breath, the Arbites could finish prosecuting and executing one citizen and turn to the next just for being in the vicinity of the proceedings. But Sam couldn't place why the _Arbites_ himself would be fearful. He would have to ask Linux to ask that masked character they'd met earlier.

Once out of the hospital, they immediately took off down the street and down the second alley they came across. It was strange, this city. It was bustling and busy, but not anywhere close to the scale of a hive world.

He dodged and ducked around a fire escape and some trash.

«Commissar – What planet did you say this was?» he asked through the vox-bead in his helmet.

«Holy Terra,» she replied.

Sam went silent in shock. These dingy alleys that they were running through, the very dirt on the ground was sacred. He shook his arm, sending the little bracelet on it to drop down. He thumbed the little pendant on it, a small, golden double Aquila, as a small smile graced his features nonetheless.

«The Emperor protects,» he breathed through his vox.

«Indeed he does. Now if he could just send me a map so we can lose these Arbites,» Commissar Poltava remarked. «Praise the Emperor that these signs are at least marked in a Gothic-based alphabet. Let's try to rendezvous now. There's a 132 and something that says 'Hail Iamaica' ahead. We'll cut through 'Hail Iamaica' and head up another smaller street, see if we can confuse the Arbites,» she ordered.

The was a beat.

«Enginseer, do you copy?» Poltava repeated.

More silence.

«Shit, looks like the Omnissiah took a vacation. We'll continue on our path. He'll rendezvous if he can – when he can,» said Poltava.

Then, Linux's voice sounded through their vox-beads, voice heavily distorted.

«… try….eet up...'ave sust...ned…vy dam…ge…traction…stems restar…ent…»

Sam shot the commissar a worried expression.

«Will he be alright?»

«It may be easier to help him get out than have him find us,» the Commissar mused. «Enginseer, what are your coordinates?»

«…three-four…eight-ni...rep…t: one…ree-f…nd ei…ine….peat: one-three… and eigh…nine» Linux replied as well as he could.

«Trembley, can you make anything of that?»

«It's rough, but the second part is 89 – I think the first part is 134.»

«Good. Sound's like he wasn't too far behind us. I'll backtrack toward the hospital. Trembley: search for shelter.»

«Yes, Ma'am,» the young Guardsman said, quickly saluting with the sign of the Aquila.

* * *

 **AN** : I think I have enough buffer to be able to update comfortably at around 1 per week, and I'll probably post them around the end of the week. Thank you to all the people who've followed and favorited so far! These early chapters are a bit rough, and I have already gone back and edited them before posting. I was still feeling around for what I wanted to do with the prompt of "Warhammer meets Spider-man," but I think I've found a little momentum. Feel free to comment with speculation or hopes of what may happen. Considering this is a fan work blending two different universes, things will be drifting and differing from both lores. I just hope that my interpretations remain true to the source materials. And, because I have not yet said it, I do not own Marvel nor the Avengers nor Games Workshop nor Warhammer 40k.

 **Update:** 11/11/2018 - It looks like when I set this up, Fanfiction ate some of my quotation marks. Needed to change out the double "" and "" that I was using and replace them with actual marks « ».


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Queens, 29 August**

Saturday. A day most kids endure the entire week in expectation of relaxation and fun. A day to hang out with friends and not worry about school work or studies. It was still morning, and Peter had met up with Ned at his friends' house, chatting about the night before while the tv played in the background.

"So Linux Roboto held your phone and worked, like, techno-magic on it?" Ned asked.

"Yeah. It was the weirdest thing. When I went through my phone, I found he'd accessed things that required passwords and those "anti-robot" checks to get through. And he'd done it all in just a couple seconds!" Peter said, still distressed by what went on at the hospital.

"Well, just don't tell Michelle. She'll freak and somehow find a way to rub it in your face," Ned replied.

"Right. I haven't told her much yet about this whole situation, mostly because I don't want to worry her, but also because I know she'd try to go and beat Linux up. But just, ugh, I just wish I could get to the bottom of this."

"Hold it! Something's on the news – hey, isn't that the hospital where those three were sent?"

"You're right. Oh, no. What happened?" Peter asked, suddenly more interested in the broadcast.

« _Late last night, a woman and her accomplice have gone missing when Police went to take them in for questioning. These two,_ » the program displayed blurry gray-scale pictures of the Commissar and Linux, probably taken from security, « _have assaulted police officers and are currently holding a 17-year-old teen hostage, though witnesses state that the teen appeared to be working with the other two. If you see these people, do not hesitate to call the police. They are extremely dangerous…_ »

Ned and Peter exchanged a look.

"Dude, didn't you just speak to them last night?"

"Yeah, but they seemed normal then! Sure, I think the woman nearly punched out one of the ER nurses, but she seemed pretty lucid when I was talking with Linux."

"Pete - You never actually spoke to her. You told me earlier that Linux was translating everything for the both of you. So, she really could be exactly what the news is making her out to be," Ned rationalized.

"Okay. So we know they're weird. We don't know if they're good or bad. We do know they're good at fighting and good at hacking. Now, how do we hunt them down?"

"We've got a couple of choices. We can look for Mr. Roboto – I'm sure he'll generate a lot of conversation wherever he goes from what you've told me. Alternatively, we can monitor police reports while they look for the kid."

Peter thought for a moment. "Can you help me make both happen? That way we'll can look for leads on either person and track them down quicker."

"Let's get started then," Ned said, heading to turn on his computer.

* * *

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Queens, 25 October**

A month. They had been stranded here for over a month, Kasia Poltava mused as she looked out of the window. They'd become squatters. Sam had found this abandoned apartment and the three of them had worked over the course of the month to make it more hospitable. During the first week, they rummaged through dumpsters and trash heaps like underhivers. Their only consolation was that the vermin here were not quite as large or dangerous as those in certain hive cities.

Kasia was eager to explore this new, or was it old, Terra and instructed Enginseer Linux to teach them all the English he had learned in his data-base. Meanwhile, in his free-time, Linux had scavenged enough material to modify their comms and other equipment, still in accordance to the ancient machine writs. Although they may be using less-than-orthodox materials, he would have his own organic parts grafted back onto him before he resorted to tech heresy. He modified the charging cells to be able to recharge more than just charge packs. With prayer, incense, and oil, he performed the rites of power, hooking up the wiring that ran though the place to the modified charger. He gave their little sanctuary self-sustaining power. Then, he'd performed the rites to install his translation program into the comms. While it was unable speak English for them, they could at least begin to understand the words that were being spoken and formulate small, short sentences of their own. Now, at least they could communicate with the locals. The rest of learning would come in time.

Sam was the only of them to find a job. Both Kasia and Sam looked, but only Sam had been hired. Kasia couldn't quite figure why no one saw her fit for any of the positions she'd applied for. She'd applied for supervisory and managerial positions at warehouses and companies. She had exceptional leadership skills. She was a Commissar and Vostroyan First-Born! She'd been enrolled in the Schola Progenium and worked hard to prove herself worthy. She had over 3 decades of experience to prove it! She'd never even landed an interview. Occasionally, there would be the odd reply that none of her experiences existed.

Meanwhile, Sam had applied to lower grunt-type jobs. Warehouses, manual labor, and other jobs of the like. Eventually, he was hired by a cemetery organization. He was to be a groundskeeper. Kasia was perplexed at how the young guardsman was able to find civilian employment with such ease, while she herself kept getting sidelined.

Sam, however, hardly thought anything about the job. His employers seemed a bit hesitant when he was unable to produce a "valid New York State driver's license or other form of ID." He didn't quite understand why his dog tags – which clearly state his name, regiment, home world, and allegiance to the Emperor – did not suffice. For that interview, he'd only gone in fatigues. The first couple of interviews he'd gone to he went in his full kit – one never knows when Chaos, Xenos, or heretics could strike. It had been under Kasia's advisement that he attend in fatigues. During some of their sorties to gather supplies, she had noticed the other civilians general unease at their presence, noting that their eyes lingered on their martial bearing, skull ornamentation, and holy Aquila. Once, someone had shouted at them.

"Nazi bastards," the elderly woman said, spitting on the pavement in their direction. Guardsman Trembley was quick to level his lasgun at the woman, finger light on the trigger, waiting for the command to fire.

" _Guardsman, a warning shot, if you will_ ," Kasia ordered in High Gothic. She still wasn't sure what compelled her to give that mercy. Trembley complied in silence, the shot burning into the cement beside the woman. "How dare you disrespect the Emperor!" she chastised, her accent thick upon the strange words of this English.

"Dave! Dave! Call the police! There's some crazy Nazi's with guns!" the woman screamed. Kasia noted how the other civilians in the area had taken out their mobile electronic communicators.

Trembley looked at her expectantly. Were they to cleanse this entire street of traitors? Kasia shook her head. " _Let's go home_ ," she commanded softly. Their brisk pace took them several blocks away before they heard the sirens. Thank the Emperor that they'd been able to put enough space between them and the incident. She did not want to have to face the Arbites again.

After that, she'd advised Sam to leave the armor behind. Although this may be Terra, now was not the time to let the Emperor's light be known.

Once Sam had developed a routine at his job and began to tell the others a little more about it, Enginseer Linux perked up at the mention of the place being a burial ground.

"Private Trembley," he'd said, "Would you exhume for me a good skull from an honorable person?" the Tech Priest had asked Sam one day.

"It will be done," Sam replied. Over the course of a couple days, he reviewed the markings on the graves. Not quite knowing who they were or what the little crosses and stars meant, he made a copy of the marker and noted the location. In the wee hours of the morning, he returned in the dark, shovel in hand, and exhumed the skulls of a couple united in death, carefully replacing the soil so none would be the wiser.

It took nearly three days of labor. Linux had successfully constructed two new servo-skulls. They were simple little things. Mono-task skulls with little pincers at the ends of long retractable arms. They were perfect for doing little odd, monotonous jobs like writings, keeping watch, or aiding in manual labors. Linux would have liked to have created a Guardian, but lacking access to the materials to create the gun, it just wasn't feasible. Not yet. Linux had whispered to Sam that, if the young guardsmen was able to find resources in this world and collect skulls and - dare he mention it - living bodies, then their defenses could be bolstered through the use of those servo-skulls and servitors. They could create their own army to better enforce the Omnissiah's will, Linux had mused maniacally. Sam decided it would be best to leave the Tech Priest to his mutterings.

In any event, the little skulls now floated about their apartment, mainly working with brush and bin to tidy the place up. Sam continued working in the cemetery, Linux experimented with different materials, and Kasia worked to keep the household running and moral up. Every morning, she would lead Trembley in prayer to their glorious Emperor, the little Aquila from her own chain serving as their focus. Sam would unconsciously thumb his own bracelet as his thoughts turned to the events of the 41st millennium. In those quiet moments of prayer, all of them would entertain thoughts and memories of the lives they left behind.

* * *

Sam was walking through the streets. Today, he was tasked to go shopping for essential foodstuffs. He supposed he was glad that the Commissar knew how to cook. He was used to the near inedible rations that they were issued for whatever campaign he'd been sent to. Hard and dry, things that could survive space and warp and likewise kill the denizens of either if they attempted to consume unawares. He rather did like having these fresh ingredients, he decided.

As he walked past some of the other shops, he noted the change in atmosphere over the past few weeks. The air had changed, becoming colder and crisp, and things were becoming… festive? The unveiling of skulls and other necrotic and mortal imagery reminded him of some of the feasts days and dedications to the Saints and the Emperor. Although orange, black, and purple weren't exactly the most pleasing colors – everyone knows that gold is the way to properly honor the Emperor and his faithful dead - he took some amusement in the sights. The skulls they had on display in the shops were funny. Instead of being true bone, they were cheap plastic imitations. He couldn't fathom why they wouldn't honor the dead with their own, real skulls, but he dismissed the thought, not trying to get caught up in all of the particularities of this strange Terra.

He was shopping in the grocers when it happened.

His Commissar had written they needed. Some staple vegetables – whatever looked fresh – some of that delicious hard-crusted "Italian" Bread, and a cut of steak from the butcher. Sam had practically salivated when she told him she was going to make fresh steak. As he thought about it, being here on this Terra was like being on a civilized world. There were small cities with people, but they still had access to gardens and fresh food. He was trying to decide between vegetables called "sugar snap peas" and "string beans" when someone bumped into him.

"Hey man, sorr- Wait. It's you," the voice said, starting an apology before changing thought. As he turned to face the person, some amount of realization dawned on him. It was the Man of Spiders, the one that Linux had learned so much from.

"Hey, Pete, there a problem?" a short, chubby kid said, taking note of the Man of Spiders' concern. "Wait, is this one of them?" the kid asked in a stage whisper.

" _Salve_ , Man of Spiders. I-" Sam began before being cut off by the kid.

"Shh! No, call me Pete. No one else can know that!" The Man of Spiders – Pete – said frantically.

"Pete," Sam said, trying to commit the name to memory. "I was… shopping for food. I did not expect to see… a person from the… beginning here? I am sorry for how I speak - it is new to me," Sam said, his speech broken and thick with his own accent as he searched for the foreign words.

The other boy had been glancing between Peter and Sam, concern and suspicion written on his face as Sam spoke.

"Okay," Peter shook his head before running a hand through his hair. "What did you guys do? I need to know if I can trust you, because, honestly, after attacking those police officers, I don't know if I can."

Sam looked at Peter, mind clearly concentrating on the words he said.

"It is… a misunderstanding? My Commissar believed the Arbites to think we were in violation of Lex Terra – um… Law of Terra and were to execute their… judgement, upon us."

"So, the obvious choice was to run away from the police officers who were trying to arrest you rather than go with them to present your case," Peter said, his words dripping with sarcasm that Sam didn't seem to get.

"The Arbites are Law. If you break the Law, you… I don't know how to say. You become like body in cemetery?" Sam said. After a moment's pause, he added, "You die," the words remembered in his mind.

Peter wrinkled his brow as a confused smile crossed his face as Sam spoke before he realized what Sam was saying. "Wait. You mean that where you're from, the police kill their suspects?"

"Yes. Walk with me. I need to get these foods back to my Commissar," Sam said, gesturing to the produce currently in his little basket.

"Why would they do that? Aren't there trials before executions?"

"The Arbites – police officer? – _est iudex, iudicum, et carnifex_."

Peter and Ned exchanged a glance.

"I think you say as "judge, jury, and executioner." You can understand?" Sam added.

Peter and Ned were dumbstruck as the trio moved to the checkout counter, where Sam began unloading his basket.

"So, you have money now?" Peter hazarded to ask, hoping to change to a lighter topic.

"Yes. I give my services as Custodes to the cemetery," Sam said, a little smile playing on his features. "It is very nice. The cemetery is very beautiful. The trees! So many trees! They are old and beautiful. They do not feel evil like Chaos," Sam mused as he paid for his food.

Peter followed with his own groceries, though Ned was the one to speak up. "Dude, you like working in the cemetery? Isn't it weird to be surrounded by all those dead bodies?"

Sam blinked as he turned to the other boy. "I do not believe we have met. I'm Sam Trembley of the Cadian 1214th," he said, holding out a free hand in greeting like he'd seen other "New Yorkers" do.

"Uh, Ned Leeds of, uh, Queens," Ned replied awkwardly, going in for a handshake. He shot a glance to Peter that Sam appeared to more or less ignore.

Instead, Sam continued with his answer as they left the store and began walking down the street. "No. The cemeteries here are small. Intimate? It's strange not seeing thousands of markers together. But a good strange," He said, musing on how they would mark the dead. Often, there wouldn't be a body to send home, but little memorials would be placed within small niches in huge, towering cathedrals of those now lost to the Imperium.

Sam pondered a bit before speaking. "What do you do here?"

Peter and Ned exchanged a look, not quite certain of Sam's meaning. "Uh, Ned and I go to school during the day. Homework takes up a lot of the evenings, but we always find time to talk and hang out," Peter answered.

Sam nodded as his eyes went wide in shock. "You are able to attend a _Schola_?"

"Yeah. All the kids here attend school. And if we score well enough on the exams, we can go to college," Peter replied nonchalantly.

"Everyone goes? Not just the orphans?" Sam asked, incredulously.

"Yeah. Why? Is it different where you're from?" Peter asked.

Sam nodded. "Only the most… skilled? orphans are selected for the _Schola Progenum_. I was a Whiteshield for nearly three years, and then I was selected for the 1214th. I was not lucky enough for both my parents to have died in service," he said with a wry smile, "but through me and every Cadian that lives, Cadia stands."

"Wait, what is a Whiteshield?" Ned asked.

"They are young soldier without regiment. Trained past recruit, but no experience." Sam replied.

"Dude! How old are you? You don't look much older than us!" Ned said incredulously.

"17 Terran years. Why? Is that strange?" Sam asked.

"Dude! You're like some… child soldier! You must've been, like, 14 when you started! That's insanely illegal!" Ned exclaimed. Peter, too, had an expression of shock plastered across his face. "Holy shit, Pete, if Michelle ever hears about this, she'd go crazy."

As Peter and Ned discussed the supposed insanity of Sam's upbringing, Sam lightly touched the small vox-bead in his ear. « _Enginseer Linux. Tell the Commissar I will be delayed. I have found the Man of Spiders and he is telling me more about this planet. I have the groceries,_ » Sam said quietly in High Gothic.

The Tech Priest voiced an affirmative through the bead's channel.

* * *

Peter couldn't believe it. Actually, he could. He just didn't want to. When he first found Sam in the alley, "child-soldier" had been one of the first thoughts that raced through his mind. Hearing it from the guy's own mouth, though, was disturbing. He felt like he should _really_ try to get in contact with SHIELD about them, but a little spark of stubbornness inside him was throwing a fit saying "Don't!" For all he knew, SHIELD would make it worse. Sam and the other two were already flighty from their initial police encounter. He could just picture SHIELD showing up, trying to strong-arm them into the fold.

Peter also was feeling a little rebellious. He had asked Ned to contact SHIELD in the beginning, but they ignored him. He had tried to make them understand about the appearance of these strange, otherworldly people, but SHIELD had dismissed him. It was up to him and Ned. But also in thinking about it, Sam didn't come across as out-right evil or anything. Just different. Even Linux, the weird computer guy, hadn't seemed malicious when he'd taken all of Peter's info from his phone. It was more of a misunderstanding of the worst kind. Peter decided it would be best to get to know them. What was the old saying? "Keep your friends close and enemies closer?" He was definitely going to keep these guys close.

Sam eventually broke Peter's and Ned's musings. "I need to take these home," he said, gesturing to the bags in his arms. "Do you want to come with me?" he offered.

Peter and Ned exchanged a look. Ned, Peter presumed, was most likely thinking that that he would be able to meet Mr. Roboto. Peter similarly saw this as an opportunity to learn more about them, that he would be able to find out more about how they were living and blending in and whether he needed to maintain a more stringent focus on them. However, Peter also had his own bag of groceries. He'd promised Aunt May that he would do the shopping for dinner and get the candy for the Halloween candy bowl. Inwardly, he sighed.

"Sorry. I gotta get these back home, too. Maybe we could meet up Halloween? We could meet you after you finish work at the cemetery," Peter suggested.

Sam, however, looked a bit confused. "Hallo-ween? I do not know it?"

"Oh, well, it's this Friday. Kids and people dress up in fun costumes and go house-to-house trick-or-treating to get candy," Peter tried to explain unsuccessfully. He frowned as Sam's eyes continued to glaze over in unfamiliarity. "Just, after work, make sure you have a costume. Ned and I will give you the full Halloween experience then."

"We will?" Ned asked.

"Yeah. We'll go trick-or-treating, walk through a haunted house, go to a party – those sorts of things. I gotta get these home. I'll see you then?" Peter said, waving goodbye.

"It shall be so," Sam replied, returning the wave and departing from the other two to return to his own home.

* * *

 **AN** : Well, this was the supposed "Halloween" special, but I only finished organizing all my thoughts, like, a week before Halloween. Plus, I like to think of Halloween being something of a liminal space. Get ready for the Plot to thicken.

As always, I do not own Marvel, the Avengers, Spider-Man, Warhammer 40k, or GW. This is being written purely for fun, as to see how would our "modern" superhero-flavored Earth would survive these visitors from a grim, dark future where these is only war.


	5. Chapter 4

**Updated** : 11/27 – Reworked from where Stark comes in. SolarBlaster and JauneBrando gave some good critique, and I hope this band-aid suffices. I'm probably going to do my Warp foray still too early for your tastes, but I have my reasons. Post-Warp, we'll get into the crux of the material, probably.

 **Chapter 4**

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Queens, 31 October**

Sam had reported to Kasia and Linux the opportunity he had gained. Kasia had nodded in affirmation, voicing how she thought it would be a good way for them to continue learning about these people – their ancestors, if it were to be believed.

"Costume, he said?" Kasia asked the young Guardsman.

"Yes – he said to wear a costume," Sam said.

Kasia harrumphed. "Well, you'll be representing the Imperial Guard and the Emperor. It's only right that you wear your best. Come. Show me your gear. I want to be sure everything's in order."

Obediently, Sam led her to the little nook in the apartment that was his bunk. His bed was made, the sheets stretched so taut over the mattress that a coin could bounce – all according to regulation. But his Commissar ignored the perfect display, instead honing into his gear, both what he was wearing and what was displayed on the sheets. She frowned, serious, as she inspected him. Sam was wearing the standard Cadian uniform: tunic shirt, trousers, and boots. His helmet, gasmask, lasgun, autopistol, jacket and flak armor were displayed on his bed with his other regulation equipment. His combat knife was discretely secured to his person. Commissar Poltava reviewed the gear. Her aquiline eyes scoured every item, noting every scratch, every mark that marred the perfection of the Imperial equipment. Sure, they'd come from battle, but they'd been here for one whole Throne-damned month. Sam stood at a steady parade rest as she inspected the buttons upon his jack and tunic and the laces upon his boots.

Standing back upright, Kasia spoke. "Launder you uniform and polish your boots. They're filthy." She pointed to the golden double-headed eagles that adorned his gear. "Polish your Aquilas. They must shine when you go out tonight. Wear your jacket; the flak armor may be a bit much, and do make sure you keep your vox-bead on."

Sam quickly saluted his Commissar with a quick Sign of the Aquila before adopting a more at ease position.

"Oh, and Trembley? Go to the Tech Priest. He has something for you," Kasia said before departing back to the business she'd been attending.

Sam then made his way to the Tech Priest's portion of the apartment. The apartment consisted of two bedrooms, a common area, kitchen and bathroom. Kasia and Linux had each purposed a bedroom for their own purposes, leaving Sam with a little corner of the common room to call his own. What he had called his bunk was actually a sleeper sofa – every night he would haul it out and set it up, and in the morning, he would return it to a sofa. It was something that Kasia and Linux had found while he was at work. He didn't know where they'd gotten it from – it wasn't the most comfortable thing, and the lumpiness of the thin mattress made him contemplate sleeping on the floor, but he was still grateful to them both for providing him with the luxury of a bed. The rest of his gear he kept in his rucksack, neat and contained. Kasia's room was not too dissimilar to his own. Again, Kasia and Linux must have found a bedframe and mattress from somewhere. Besides her gear and the bed, though, it was still very spartan.

Linux's room, however, was different. Although they hadn't come with much, Linux had tasked himself on scavenging for any sort of electronics or devices he could. He'd converted some of their supplies into a solar charger and had wires running from it to a plethora of devices and locations. They had light in their humble little apartment because Linux had tapped into the electrical wires of their flat and connected the charger into the system. All blessed, following the proper chants and forms. It would not due to invite any heretek into their dwelling.

Sam gave a light rap on the worn door of Linux's room, more out of courtesy than anything. Although it wasn't much pressure, the door swung open, the rusty hinges emitting a small squeak as it continued its swing. At the noise, the tech priest stopped what he was doing, straightening his body as he turned to face Sam.

"Private Samuel Trembley," Linux acknowledged in his quick, mechanical voice.

"Enginseer Linux," Sam replied in turn. "The Commissar said you had something for me?" Sam asked, almost hesitantly.

Linux bobbled his head, turning quicker than one would think the strange body capable, and his metal limbs gently enclosed around something before turning and approaching Sam. Two of his mechadendrites were busy doing something to the ball of white that was caged in his hands.

"You will take Grace-Hopper with you," the tech priest said, releasing a skull from his hands. The servo-skull floated up into the air before settling into hovering over Sam's shoulder.

"This mission will be an opportunity to learn. While you experience, Grace-Hopper will record your notes. It will record your spoken word when prefaced by "Grace-Hopper."" At that, the little arms on the skull swung forward, pen dipping into a well of ink and paper presenting itself to be written on.

"End," Linux had said just as promptly, and the skull returned to a restful hover. "If you desire, you can instruct the skull to create a rudimentary sketch of an area or object by reciting the activation name. When you do not require the skulls' service, it may be dismissed by stating "End" as I have done previous," Linux finished.

Sam was speechless. He didn't quite know what to expect when Poltava has told him that the Tech Priest had something to give him. He hadn't expected such an honor. Although the servo-skull was not crafted from the skull of any great Martyr or Saint of the Imperium, and although lacking in gold and jewel ornamentation – here, Linux had made due with brass and colored glass, still expertly honed to beautify the skull – the mere fact that he, a Private, would be deemed worthy of receiving a servo-skull was a tremendous, nigh inconceivable honor.

"Enginseer Linux… This, this is truly an honor. I shall endeavor to utilize it to its fullest capabilities!" Sam said, filled with gratefulness.

"You may keep that one. I only request more materials. Incense, skulls, parchment, raw components," the Tech Priest replied offhandedly, gesturing idly with an organic limb. His oculars drifted down toward the boy's legs. "Are they alright? I can perform the rite of calibration before you go," Linux offered as Sam was preparing to leave.

"Actually, it has been a while. If it's not too much trouble for you?"

"I have what I need. Remove your boots and trousers and lay on your sofa. There's more space for the rite there."

Sam nodded as he obediently went to expose his prosthetics for the tech priest to work, the little servo-skull idly following behind.

* * *

Michelle and Ned had agreed to meet up at Pete's apartment after school to finish getting ready for the evening. Aunt May had spent the day preparing all sorts of tasty treats and spooky snacks for the teens, as well as decorating the apartment to give it the Halloween spirit. Little plastic skulls and pumpkins sat along the windowsill, their little battery-operated candles flickering rhythmically. She had created a variety of finger foods, from homemade salsa and little mini bagel pizzas to a little vegetable spread arranged like a colorful jack-o-lantern.

After they'd eaten and changed into costumes, the trio thanked Aunt May as they headed out the door and toward to the cemetery.

"I'm just saying, I think this is a good chance for us to get to know them," Pete said as they walked along Kew Gardens Road.

"Pete, you said yourself weeks ago that they were fugitives," Michelle retorted.

"Yeah, but when Ned and I ran into the kid earlier this week, I felt like we had a connection or something."

Michelle crossed her arms as they walked. "Why didn't you just send them to a shelter or direct them to the authorities?"

"I tried, but after they fled from the hospital, they completely fell off the grid for me. Plus, I wasn't too sure how well the authorities would work. I'm pretty sure they'd be considered illegal immigrants," Peter mused.

"Okay, so they're not from here. If they really were threats, shouldn't you have tried to get the Avengers or someone involved?" Michelle asked.

"We tried. Mr. Stark shut me down, and no one else would take my calls," Ned said.

"Still, they've been learning English. The kid – Sam – at least he can somewhat follow what we're saying," said Pete.

Michelle raised an eyebrow at that.

"Give him a chance – he's never heard of Halloween, so I'm hoping we might be able to learn a little more about him as we take him around town. Find out what it's like where he's from," Pete said.

"Okay, well, where did you say he was from?"

"Oh, uh… Canada?" Pete shot a look at Ned, who also furrowed his brows. "It started with a C and sounded a lot like Canada. But I guess it's also really far away."

"Really? You couldn't even bother to remember the name of the place they say they're from?"

"The kid was in the hospital! And two of them couldn't speak English before I saw Sam again!" Pete said.

Just then, fabric rustled and Peter saw movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh!" Peter exclaimed, realizing that they'd already reached the iron gate of the cemetery. Sam must have been leaning by the wall, waiting for them as promised. When they approached, Sam had stood and clicked his heels together while folding his hands in a particular way over his chest. It was a deliberate action – perhaps a salute of some kind?

Inwardly, Pete groaned. Sam was dressed in something similar to what he'd found him in. Boots were laced up smart and polished to a shine, their heels met with a small "click" as Sam brought them together to present himself. Above that were sturdy looking trousers, a tunic shirt and jacket done up smartly, the buttons shining in the fading daylight, leather strap securing a strange looking gun to his shoulder, and a sturdy helmet sat upon the kid's head. It was the emblem on the helmet, and, indeed, on every button and even the gun, that gave the three of them pause. It was a double-headed eagle.

" _Ave,_ Peter, Ned, and…?" Sam greeted them, the words still somewhat clumsy from his tongue.

Michelle shot Peter a ' _seriously?'_ look, as she plastered a smile onto her face. Definitely some sort of military nut job, but she'd give him the benefit of the doubt for Pete. "Hi, I'm Michelle. I'm in Pete's class," she said, giving a little friendly wave.

A small smile flicked across Sam's face. "Michelle – well met. I am Private Samuel Trembley of Cadia. Call me Sam," he said, hesitantly returning the wave.

As Sam returned the wave, a glint of light caught Michelle's eye. Then she saw it: a floating skull. A look of horror slowly crossed her features. This was something just too weird to ignore. She nudged Ned and made a little gesture at the thing. Sam seemed to notice the gesture and he looked over his shoulder.

"Ah, yes. This is Grace. Enginseer Linux gifted it to me," Sam said, answering their unspoken question.

The three friends exchanged a glance.

"Is… Is that a real skull?"

"How is it floating?"

"What does it do?" They all asked at once.

Sam blinked, trying to understand the different questions.

"Could you repeat those questions slower for me?" Sam asked, "I do not speak English very well."

"Is-" "How did you get it to float in the air like that?" Peter asked, cutting off Ned.

"Enginseer Linux created a… a…" Sam said something in low Gothic, "I am sorry, I do not know how to say it in English."

"I guess that'll remain a mystery to us – at least until Mr. Stark sees it," Peter remarked.

"Okay, then what does it do?" Michelle asked.

"It is a," Sam said another term in low Gothic. "Enginseer Linux gifted it with small… cogitators so it can do one task. This one writes. When I ask, Grace will write what I speak, or what I ask it to record."

Michelle looked the floating skull over and noted the mechanical arms sprouting from it. Sure enough, there appeared to be some paper and a stylus. She furrowed her brows. "Why not just record the audio? Or, you know, why not just use a phone?"

"A what?" Sam blinked.

Michelle pulled her smartphone out of the small bag she took with her and held it up. "A cellphone. You use it to make phone calls, browse the internet take pictures, record videos," she rattled off. She watched Sam's eyes widen with awe.

Sam muttered something to himself in low Gothic, before splaying his hands over his chest. "Lost technology," he said in English, almost reverently. "Enginseer Linux would kill to look at it again. In the Imperium, things like that," Sam gestured at the smartphone, "don't exist. The ways to make them were lost, but the Adeptus Mechanicus spend their lives searching. This," he gestured back to the floating servo-skull, "is one of the results. Well, also that the Adeptus Administratum enjoys paperwork," he finished somewhat more casually.

"So the skull – is it real?" Ned finally asked.

"Of course. This one – I am unfamiliar with who she was in life, but her marker said she was a "beloved mother." Engineseer Linux christened this skull with the name of one of the great Cult Saints," Sam said in reply.

"Um, yeah, I think that just raised more questions than you answered," Ned said.

"How so?"

"Dude, you think converting a dead persons' skull into some weird floating robot is normal!" Ned said.

"I did not say it was normal. Only the greatest servants of the Imperium can hope for such an honor," Sam replied.

"Dude, that's weird," Ned retorted.

"ANYHOW," Peter said, raising his voice, "we can walk and talk. We need to get into one of the neighborhoods if we want to take Sam Trick-or-Treating or make it to the party in time."

* * *

At those words, Sam perked up. This was one of the things he was out for.

" _Grace Hopper, record the conversation between Private Samuel Trembley, Peter, Ned, and Michelle_ ," Sam commanded the servo-skull in low Gothic. The little skull responded promptly, its metal arms swinging to its front, bring up some paper and preparing its stylus.

"Peter, how does one do this Trick-or-Treat?" Sam asked. He noted how the shorter, rounder boy – Ned – was ogling Grace Hopper, his expression something of a morbid fascination. Michelle, too, was stealing glances as the little skull began writing, but she at least made an attempt to be more discrete.

"Well, all the kids in a community get dressed up into costumes – sometimes they're scary monsters, other times they're heroes or faeries or animals – and they go door to door and shout "Trick or Treat!" and the adults who live there give them candy," Peter began, giving Sam a glance. Peter breathed in sharply, his eyes going wide in realization. "Ned!" he said, glancing back at his friend, "We forgot to tell him to bring a bag!"

Michelle snorted before reaching into her purse. "I had a feeling something like this would happen. Here," she said, holding out an extra bag to Sam, "I brought extras. Pete can't plan things to save his life."

"I can, too!" Peter retorted.

"Really? So were you planning on not having Sam get candy?"

"No, this was just… a small oversight. In my defense, I was trying to buy groceries for Aunt May!" Peter said.

"So these costumes," Sam asked, trying to get back on the topic of Halloween and Trick-or-Treating. Grace Hopper was still recording, after all. "Do they have a significance?"

"Oh, yeah. Some people dress up as people they want to emulate. Superheroes can have powers and often go about "saving the world," and all that. Other times, when people dress up as monsters, sometimes it's to poke fun at their fears, but most of the time it's to scare their friends," said Peter.

"But why would you want to be scared?" Sam asked.

"Well, some people think it's fun."

Sam shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"

"What do you mean, "danger?" The worst that happens is someone slaps you in the face and we all have a good laugh," Pete replied.

"Out on the line, everyone's always on edge. You'd be, too, if you knew relaxing your guard for even a moment could mean the end of you and the… planet – yes! Planet you're standing on."

The smiles on the trio's faces disappeared. Michelle's eyes slipped to Sam's lasgun he currently had slung over his shoulder. Sam could sense the unease of the three around him.

"That is life where I'm from. The enemies of mankind are everywhere, always waiting for the chance to attack. Sometimes, they're _Xenos_ – aliens, I think you call them. Other times, they're _Daemons_ – spawns of the Gods of Chaos. And sometimes, it's from your own battle-brother, a heretic – one who gives up his trust in the Emperor in favor of… something else."

"Man, that's rough. So, like, what's up with the gun? You said you were a private, but you're, like, what? 18?" Ned asked incredulously.

"I'm 17 Terran years, and it's because I'm Cadian," Sam replied.

"Dude, that's not even legal, and just repeating that "I'm Cadian" means nothing to us. We don't even know where Cadia is!" said Ned.

"Was."

"What do you mean, "Was?"" Peter asked.

"There was a battle in the system near the _Eye of Terror_ – a dangerous area, the enemy always near. It was the Imperium against the Forces of Chaos. Now, Cadia only exists here," Sam replied, putting a hand over his heart.

"Can't you guys just march back over and take it back?" Ned asked.

"No," Sam said, shaking his head. "The planet – it does not exist but in we who yet live." He took a breath. "Also, weren't you to show me how this "Trick-or-Treating" is done?" Sam asked, abruptly changing the topic.

"Oh! Well," Peter quickly looked around, searching for an apartment where the porch lights were on. "Ah! There! Come on!" he said, grabbing Sam's arm and leading him to a house. Ned and Michelle followed them.

They filed up the stairs to the stoop where a woman sat. She was dressed in tattered rags, and the grey hair in a wild mane about her head was crowned by an equally tattered conical hat.

" _Grace Hopper, record this interaction,_ " Sam ordered the servo-skull floating by him, whispering in low Gothic in an attempt to be discrete. It was still recording from the previous conversation, but it proceeded to take notes of the being seated on the stoop.

"Trick-or-Treat~!" Peter, Ned, and Michelle all said together, their tones a lighthearted jest. Sam was mute as he observed, despite standing in the middle of their group.

The woman cackled, "Oh, what have we here, my pretties?" Her gaze darted between the four. "Spider-man, a Jedi, a witch, and a silent soldier? Come here, come here!" She beckoned them closer with a gnarled hand, holding up what looked like a metal cauldron. As Sam drew nearer and her ugly, green visage became more clear to him, he reached a hand to his lasgun. Peter, seeming to detect his unease, put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay. She's gonna give us candy," Peter whispered to Sam, trying to steel his nerves.

Sam furrowed his brows, and made a small gesture at the woman in disgust. "But she's a mutant! We had the power to end her existence!" Sam replied in equally hushed tones.

"No, come one, put the gun down and just take the candy, I'll tell you more later," Peter said, giving Sam a small nudge toward the monstrous woman.

"Eheheheh!" The woman cackled, appearing to have either not heard or chose to ignore their quiet conversation. "Come here, soldier-boy! What do you have to say?"

Sam's lips drew together tightly. Reluctantly, he proffered his bag and said "Trick or Treat."

"There's a good boy," the woman said, dropping several candies into his bag. "Keep safe tonight! Who knows what devils are prowling about tonight! Eheheheh!" she laughed.

Sam and the other three beat a hasty retreat from the woman. Once they were a safe distance from the house, Sam turned on them, his voice thick with anger. "How could you do that?"

"Woah, calm down, dude," said Ned.

"It's only a costume," said Michelle. "Just like me. She just painted her skin green to look more like a "Wicked Witch of the West.""

"But why? Why would you play at not being human?" Sam asked heatedly.

"Sam, calm down. Remember what I said earlier about people dressing up in costumes to have a good time?" Peter said, waiting for Sam to nod. "Well, she's just another adult here out to have a good time. Look: the kids who're getting candy from her are having so much fun."

True enough, delighted screams could be heard as a group of younger children fled from the "witch," their bags filled with more candy from her. A young knight put on a brave face, but turned bashful when the woman gave her more scrutiny.

"Alright – can we move on now?" Peter asked, pointedly looking at everyone.

As Ned and Michelle nodded and voiced their affirmative, their little group began walking again.

Sam breathed, trying to calm his anger. He looked to the servo-skull hovering by his head. " _Note: The humans here routinely participate in a Holiday which condones the Xenos and Mutant heretics. Private Samuel Trembley believes such practices makes this era on Holy Terra more vulnerable to Daemons,"_ he bit in low Gothic irritably. If he was documenting heretical proceedings, he was going to do all he could to distance himself from it. No way was he going to give the Commissar any reason to off him just yet.

"Hey, you know that's really rude," Michelle said, interrupting Sam from his thoughts.

"What?" Sam asked, genuinely unaware.

"Speaking in a foreign language when there's other people who don't speak it," she answered.

"I told you earlier: I am recording this. I am making notes about this "Hallo-ween,"" Sam replied.

They'd turned down a little alley – a shortcut of Peter and Ned.

"Okay, we'll hold off on the trick-or-treating for the rest of tonight. And maybe we'll cross "haunted house" off the list, too," Peter said, the faintest tone of disappointment in his voice.

"What about the party?" Ned suggested. "Do you think he'll still be okay with a costume party?"

"Honestly, Ned, I don't – " Peter was cut-off mid-sentence as the wall in front of them blew open. Immediately, Sam dove behind a mound of garbage – it was the closest bit of cover he'd seen in this alley – and unshouldered his gun. Whatever to appear once the dust settled, he wanted to be ready for it.

Upon looking for the other three, he noted that Ned had curled up to defend himself from the flying bricks while Peter used his own body as a shield to protect Michelle.

As the dust settled, a malicious laughter echoed through the alley. Sam tensed as the figure walked through the dust, its monstrous purple form coming into view. He urgently spoke into his vox-bead. « _Requesting immediate assistance! Daemon sighted! Civilians in the area!_ »

* * *

Peter turned to find the source of the explosion. Was it a gas leak? A terrorist? Something else? As he surveyed his surroundings, he saw Sam behind cover and ready for a fight. Ned was getting back to his feet and Michelle was safe. And then he heard the footsteps.

The form that calmly revealed itself was not human. Its skin was a soft purple and its form was svelte. It was hermaphroditic, one well-form breast covered by a black carapace-like armor and the other muscular pectoral exposed. He was almost taken in by the beauteous horror of it, at least until he noticed its limbs. Its legs were digitigrade talons, dark and glistening. Its arms ended as massive claws – things that could only bring pain.

"Oh~! What a delightful time this is!" It exclaimed as it laid its black eyes on Peter. Its voice was as nothing as he'd ever heard before. It was playful and sultry, yet with a grating undertone. He wanted to rip his ears out, just as he willed it to keep talking forever.

"Your emo–"

CRACK!

"Ah!" The daemonette shrieked in masochistic pleasure as the lasgun round tore through its leg. It wheeled to the source of the round in time for another shot to tear through its hip. Its lips curled in a perverted smile, baring its sharp teeth. "Oh, oh, oh! An orphan of Cadia!" it teased. "I can _taste_ your desire to dance with me!" it said. In a beat, it twisted and writhed as if there was some music that no one else could hear. It danced quicker than the eye could follow and ensconced Sam in its tainted claws, its tainted blood staining his trousers.

"Mmm, yes~!" it said as its tongue flicked out of its mouth and licked Sam face. Sam used his helmeted head to head-butt the daemonette, getting it off him.

Reacting more out of instinct than anything, Peter flung several webs at the creature. Its torso, then its claws and legs were forced to the wall, held in position by the sticky material. Seeing the creature stuck for the moment, he breathed a sigh of relief. The daemonette looked in Peter's direction.

"Even more delicious! The desire to protect!" it laughed maliciously. With a quick motion, it cut through the webs.

"Oh, no…" Peter muttered in despair, seeing his attempt to restrain the creature fall apart so quickly.

"Ned, take Michelle! Run!" Peter said frantically. Nodding, Ned scrambled to his feet.

With a fluid motion, the daemonette hammered Sam in the back. He fell to the ground, letting out an involuntary gasp as the wind was forced out of his lungs. Continuing, the daemonette advanced upon Peter like a whirling dervish.

"How lovely! How _rich_! A mutant with human friends! Oh, what strong _passion_ you have to protect them from _me~!_ " the daemonette whispered into Peter's ear. He whirled, aiming a kick at the monster. The daemonette caught it in a clawed hand and flung him at the opposite wall. He hit hard and slid down near Sam.

"Oh, you poor boy! You don't know the dance very well, do you?" the daemonette said mockingly.

Sam had dragged himself back into an upright position and fired off another shot. It tore through the elbow of one mutated arm, sending the claw flying. The daemonette shrieked in pain and ecstasy as it clutched the stump of its limb.

Just then, Peter thought it was a trick of the light, but the air seemed to shimmer.

"Oh! How regretful!" the creature sneered, holding a claw to its chest in imitation of a gentleman. "My Prince calls me home, but urges me to bring guests!" the daemonette said cruelly.

Peter blinked before blanching in realization. The daemonette whacked them both hard across the head with its remaining claw, grabbed their limp forms, and crossed the shimmering portal. Peter Parker and Samuel Trembley were taken into the Warp.

* * *

When Kasia got the vox-call from Sam, she immediately grabbed her gear and took off. Enginseer Linux followed close behind, his mechadendrites readied for battle. Often, where one Daemonette was found, more would be close behind. They were weaker daemons, spawns of Slaanesh that sought to corrupt by enticing people to give into their base desires. But they were still daemons. Their very bodies could be turned into weapons that end the lives of so many Imperial citizens. And Kasia would not see it that a daemon ran amok while she was there to stop it.

The two rounded a corner and saw some people milling about an area near an alley.

" _Move,_ " she ordered in Gothic, thinking only of rendezvousing with her men –man, she corrected. Really, now, Private Trembley was the only one directly under her command. The Enginseer followed her out of formality. As she and Linux moved through the throng, the people moved out of their way as the two forced their way through.

Kasia saw two kids standing near the mouth of the alley, a horror-stricken look across both of their faces.

" _Enginseer – search the area,_ " Kasia ordered the tech priest.

" _Affirmative_ ," Linux replied, cautiously moving into the alley.

Kasia turned to the two kids.

"Did you see what happened?" she asked, looking between the two.

"Uh, yeah – there was some explosion and – Sam called it a "daemonette," but I don't really know – anyway Pete and Sam were taken!" the boy said. He was shaking, but a cursory glance proved he was unharmed, merely rattled by the experience.

"Taken?" Kasia asked.

"Yeah. The air got all weird and shimmery and then the demon-thing took Pete and Sam and disappeared," the boy replied.

Kasia's brow furrowed. She touched a hand to her voxbead. « _Enginseer, I have reason to believe Private Trembley was taken into the Immaterium. Have you found anything?_ »

« _Yes. Inside the building there are several dead people. There is a heavily burnt Star of Chaos on the floor. It is likely they were trying to summon something._ »

« _Heretics. Sounds like they succeeded at the cost of their lives – Wait, something's happening…_ »

* * *

Tony had been busy tinkering on one of his suits when JARVIS alerted him of a situation.

"Sir, Peter Parker's signature has disappeared," JARVIS said.

"Say that again, JARVIS? I don't think I heard you right," Tony replied, teeth clenched as both arms were deep at work in a suit.

"Peter Parker's signature has disappeared, sir."

He pulled out, wiping his hands on a rag. His brows wrinkled. "What do you mean, "disappeared?"" he asked. Shaking his head as he thought, he continued, "Did something happen to him? Is the kid okay?"

"I am unsure. It does not appear as if he were harmed. He has disappeared from my scanners," JARVIS replied.

"So, you're saying you have no idea where he is?"

"That is correct, sir."

"So the kid could've gone tampering with something and found my tracer," Tony mused, not at all happy. Peter was a smart kid. He'd found a way to circumvent his programming before, and while he thought the kid had grown and become better than that, there was still a lingering doubt in his mind. After all, kids were still kids.

"That is a possibility, sir,"

Tony shook his head and pinched his nose, groaning. "JARVIS, do you have Peter's last coordinates?" he asked, walking over to one of his operational suits. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to go check up on the kid.

"I do, sir. Shall I assist your flight, sir?" JARVIS asked.

"Yeah. I need to check up on an itsy-bitsy spider," he said, half to himself as he got into his suit and took off.

* * *

Before long, Tony found his way to the alley. Flying has a way of making travel so much faster. Immediately, he saw two kids he recognized as Peter's friends, Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones. As he drew closer to land, he noted their worried expressions and the presence of a stranger in strange clothes near them.

Upon landing, he made a mental note of the peculiarity of the woman. She did not seem perturbed at all by his presence – neither by the reputation of being an extremely visible hero nor by the engineering feats that were his suit. Considering she also didn't scramble closer or away as he landed, he was going to hazard a guess that she was no ordinary civilian.

"Sir, I have detected the woman to be making some form of communication with another. They appear to be using an unfamiliar VHF channel and speaking in code," said JARVIS.

"Then I guess we'll have to say "hello," won't we," Tony replied as he flicked open his helmet. Pointing at the group, he said, "The three of you. Come with me."

Ned and Michelle followed without event, while the strange woman looked at him with suspicion before following the two kids into the alley and away from the crowd.

"Now, who can tell me what's going on? Where's Peter?" Tony asked the group seriously.

"He was taken to the _Warp_ ," the stern woman replied, her accent thick. She was obviously not from around here and still learning the language.

Tony wheeled on her. "Warp? You mind elaborating on that, miss…?"

The woman was dressed strangely. Peaked cap and tailored greatcoat done up in tones of red and black with lots of gold lacing. It gave off a military vibe. Tony didn't like it.

" _Commissar_ Poltava," she bit out, "and it is a place you should hope to never see," she said acerbically. As she drew closer, he noticed the long scar that snaked from her forehead, over her left eye, and halfway down her cheek. The skin puckered tightly in a white line down her face, and the skin was tugged in that strange ways scars do when she spoke.

Tony turned to the kids. He knew from Romanoff that commissar was more of a political title from the days of communism, often used to ensure the ideas of the state were carried out among its people. Ned and Michelle, he knew he could trust them. They were close to Peter. Seeing them with this woman set off different alarms in his head, and he was wondering what her relationship was to them. As he turned, he saw movement in the alley behind them. Reflexively, he corrected his turn, lasers at the ready and visor back in place for targeting.

"Freeze! Identify yourself!" Stark ordered.

The red-robed figure stopped its advance, allowing Stark to get a better look at it. It was… strange. Humanoid in appearance, it seemed like something had butchered one of his Ironman suits, slapped a couple of extra arms here and there, and threw a cloth over top of it all in the hopes that no one would notice the general screw-up of the situation.

"Commissar Poltava?" the thing asked, its masculine tones modulated by whatever thing he was speaking through. Tony kept his laser trained on the thing.

"He is with me. Enginseer Linux," the commissar replied.

"Tell me: what's with the getup?" Stark asked.

"Parker inquired that before. What "getup?"" the Enginseer asked, cocking its head.

"Why're you dressed like you stepped out of some fascist's wet dream," he said, shooting a look at the commissar before turning back to the Enginseer, "and why are you… with all that stuff? Are they weapons? What's your purpose?" he said, emphasizing his points with little jabs of his palm.

The commissar blinked, as if the comment Stark had made was completely absurd.

The Enginseer spoke. "This one's _mechadentrites_ serves in many tasks. Modification makes them suitable for combat, but this one's purpose is to maintain the equipment of the Cadian 1214th and ensure all machine spirits are properly appeased in the name of the Omnissiah."

"Omni-what? Machine spirits? You in some kind of cult?"

"Cult Mechanicus. Gloria Omnissiah," it replied almost cheerfully, intertwining its hands. Stark's HUD suddenly blipped, detecting something in the Enginseer's more organic hand.

"Hold! What's in your hand?" Stark commanded, gesturing with the armed laser in his palm.

Carefully, the Enginseer unfolded its hand, revealing a feather. He gestured for the Enginseer to approach. It was the strangest feather he'd ever seen. It wasn't so much the general form of it – it was about the size of a normal bird's feather. No, rather it was the color. It was in a state of constant flux. Golds and yellows morphed to blues, greens, and teals, swirling and blending and shimmering in an almost magical sense. "What in the…?" mutter Stark. He looked to Wet Dream. She, however, had a look of fear? No, it was not fear. Loathing. Disgust. This feather did not shock her, and it raised only more questions within him.

"What's the feather?" he asked.

"A symbol of the forces of chaos," she replied through her teeth. It appeared as if the frown she initially wore had deepened. She looked to the Enginseer and spoke quickly in some other language that JARVIS couldn't decipher.

"Hey, now. English," Tony commanded.

"Commissar Poltava remarked how we were not fast enough to answer Guardsman Trembley's vox."

"Guardsman Trembley? Who's he? Another of you?"

"Uh, Peter introduced us to him. He's Sam. It was in the message we tried to send you," said Ned.

"The child-soldier?" Tony asked, looking to Ned for confirmation. "Wait, they weren't just cosplayers…" he muttered under his breath.

He returned his attention to the two strange people. "Right. One more time. Who are you, where are you from, and what are you doing here?"

The commissar levelled her eyes at him. Man, did she have a piercing glare. "I am Commissar Kasia Poltava of Vostroya, assigned to the Cadian 1214th. For matters of confidentiality, I cannot tell you my mission, only that we are here because of Chaos cultists."

Stark turned to the Enginseer.

"Enginseer Linux, Tech Priest to the Adeptus Mechanicus. Assigned to the Cadian 1214th to assist Explorator Gieron's forces. The grace of the Omnissiah has allowed this one to escape the _Warp_ unscathed."

"The Warp?"

"The _Warp_ exists as a dimension removed from our own," the Enginseer began in explanation. "It does not follow the same laws of time and space as our own. _Warp_ travel is incredibly difficult and dangerous, even with an Astropath to follow the guiding light of the Emperor."

Emperor? Someone's forces? These two – three, if he counted the other missing kid – were part of an army. How big? He couldn't ascertain just yet. But this militarism, nationalism, and dedication to cultist ideals, Tony felt, ran deep. It was the result of some kind of long-term indoctrination. Never mind that he'd never heard of Vostroya or Cadia or the Warp.

"Further, I suspect that Parker and Trembley were taken into the Warp," Poltava said, still frowning.

"Yeah, there was this really weird thing that'd attacked us, and I've never seen anything like it," Ned rambled.

"Sam called the thing a "daemonette,"" added Michelle.

Tony looked at the commissar. She seemed to nod her head at what Michelle said.

"Demons? Really?" he asked, incredulously.

The commissar looked back at him.

"Daemons are denizens of the Warp, spawns of the gods of chaos. If that is what took them, then there is not much we can do but pray. The Emperor protects," Poltava said somberly.

"No. Didn't you say you can through the Warp? That means there's a way to get back to them."

"I also said that the Warp is dangerous, existing outside our normal perception of reality. Once someone enters the _Warp_ , it is unknown of where they will exit, or if they will ever find an exit. It is a place of corrupting _daemons_ , things that change your very essence," the commissar further explained.

"So how did you survive?" Tony asked pointedly. If she wanted to call this "Warp" a dangerous unknown, she would have to find a way to defend it. He would get the truth out of her.

Poltava broke eye contact first. "I don't know. Our survival was nothing short of a miracle." She looked back at Tony, shaking her head. "There is nothing we can do. We do not have the capabilities to breach the Warp."

"You might not. But I know some people who might," Tony challenged. "I don't know the hows of it all, but I'm going to get them back."

The commissar laughed without humor. "Such hope. Even if by the Emperor's grace we find them, there is no guarantee they will be the same. No daemons can ever be allowed to walk on Holy Terra. If they are truly changed, we will need to put them down."

"So you would rather just cut your losses. Forget about saving your kid soldier. You would leave them to the unknown."

"You do not think I care about my men? You do not know what I've lost," Poltava spat. "I do what I must for the safety of all people here. When the time comes, I hope you will choose accordingly, too."

"Enough," said Stark. "That matter is no longer up for you to decide. You're still unknowns to America and the Avengers. You're going to give up your weapons, I'm going to cuff you, and you're going to come with me so we can get to the bottom of everything."

The commissar grimaced, and for a moment, he genuinely thought she might refuse.

"We will come peacefully. Allow us to maintain our freedom," the commissar asked.

"I'll still need your weapons," Tony prompted.

He watched as she bit the inside of her mouth. She was clearly distressed at having to give up whatever arms she had.

"Be careful with these," she said, carefully handing over the heaviest pistol he'd ever felt. He turned it over in his hands, noting the double-headed eagle that seemed to be on everything before she proffered the sword that had been clasped about her waist. It had a weight to it, heavier than he would expect a sabre of that size to be.

Tony turned his attention back to the Enginseer. The red-robed figure hesitantly offered what looked a blaster out of some sci-fi B-movie. Tony gestured to the rest of the appendages on the Enginseer. "Is there anything we can do about that? Do they come off?"

The Enginseer shook his head. "The mechadendrites are part of this one. They are extensions of this one's organic frame."

Stark considered shooting an EMP blast at the Enginseer, but ultimately decided against it. They'd seemed to be peaceful enough so far, and he'd even disarmed them. Plus, if they did become combative, he felt he could take them on at this point.

"Okay, and the weird floating skull. What is that?"

"This servo-skull is Grace Hopper," the Enginseer chimed.

"That explains nothing," Tony replied. "Is it a weapon? Can it fight?"

"Grace Hopper was assigned to Guardsman Trembley to record his observations on this Terra."

"So it's a type of surveillance drone. Can you shut it down? We're going to secure facility. I trust you understand the meaning of secret?" Stark said.

"Yes," replied the tech priest. He spoke a phrase, and the skull seemed to dock itself on his shoulder.

"Right…" Turning inwards, he spoke. "JARVIS – can you arrange for transportation of four people to the Avengers Tower?"

"I can do that, sir," the A.I. replied.

"And maybe give our Avenger friends the heads-up and perhaps let Phil know that Queens has some activity that he might like to look into?"

"Yes, sir," JARVIS replied calmly.

* * *

Before long, Kasia found herself and the Enginseer sitting at a table inside a secure compound. "The Avenger's Tower," was what the man, Stark, had called it. She had a stern frown on her face – it was, as Sam would joke, the only expression commissars could make. She looked at Linux.

Linux's mechadendrites were twitching anxiously while Grace Hopper hovered by his head, latching onto him because he was its creator. As soon as Trembley came back, though, she knew the little servo-skull would return to his side. Upon being led to this new place, it was of no comfort to learn that there was an abominable intelligence operating the security protocols. Linux had lashed out most irritably at that. As they were led through the halls, every time they passed by a port – and this facility seemed to have lots of ports – Linux would attempt to wire himself in to fight the AI. The AI – JARVIS, as it referred to itself – had a habit of notifying Stark every time Linux patched himself in. The first, Stark had seemed surprised at Linux's weight. Kasia knew those augmentations were heavy. In the light power armor that the man wore, he was unable to move Linux on his first attempt. She'd watched in some amusement as he tried to remove the tech priest's bulk from its position to no avail. Then, he did something. Considering he mentioned JARVIS, she suspected he called upon the powers of the AI. Linux was removed from his position after that. Kasia herself still did not feel at ease knowing the AI was watching them yet.

She turned her attention back to Stark, the other man in the rom. He had gone to more formally introduce himself as "Tony Stark, Iron-Man." She presumed those words were to have meant something of significance, but neither she nor Linux had any recognition for the words. She supposed it meant something like the boy, Peter Parker who'd also introduced himself as "Spider-Man," although, the boy seemed very peculiar about having them know his normal name. Stark, on the other hand, didn't seem to care how they addressed him.

Currently, Stark had removed the armor that he had appeared in, replaced with the suit of a businessman. It was simple, Kasia decided. It was nicely cut, though it lacked the ornamentation of typical Imperial garments, like her own coat.

"Okay, so I've called Thor, and Goldilocks should be here any second," Stark muttered. Kasia supposed his transparency was to remove any suspicion of his motivation. Naïve. Kasia folded her arms over her chest and assumed a more comfortable position in her chair.

Stark shot her a look. "What?" he asked, no humor in his voice.

Kasia pursed her lips, remaining silent.

"Fine. Don't talk," Stark said, tensely. "I've got someone who's great at finding out secrets coming, too. You won't be able to hide any."

"I wasn't expecting to," Kasia replied coolly.

Kasia suspected the man was still riled from their meeting in the alley. He'd seemed on-edge the entire time and had gone as far as to ask them to give up their arms. She missed the weight of her power sword and bolt pistol on her hips. Inwardly, she was still questioning if that had been the best course of action. The man seemed like he held concern for that Parker boy, but she did not know him. From his looks – and, again, considering this Terra seemed to be pre-Imperium – he had no loyalty to the Emperor. She was doubly unsure if the man was an agent of Chaos himself. She breathed a silent litany to the Emperor, asking him to give her the strength she needed to endure.

At Kasia's comment, Stark looked as if he wanted to reply, going so far as to open his mouth before the door to the room open. A tall, blonde man entered, garbed in a strange looking armor. His long, wild hair made him look as if he'd come from Fenris. While he had the look of a warrior at first glance, it quickly became apparent he was not an Imperial.

"Greetings, friend Stark! For what hast thou called me from Asgard?"

"Good to see you, too. Thor, these are Commissar Poltava and Tech Priest Linux," he said in introduction, gesturing to the two seated forms. "Poltava and Linux, meet Thor, Prince of Asgard,"

Kasia inclined her head, " _Ave_ , Prince," she said in greeting. She would be courteous. She would give them no reason to suspect her of hiding anything.

Thor, however, did something unexpected. He made his way to her, took her hand, and gently kissed it. Kasia's cheeks flushed, her scar appearing pale to the suddenly rosy tone. Quickly, she steeled herself from the momentary lapse of control. "Lady Commissar, I greet thee!" he said. He turned to Linux. "Ah, and most Holy Priest, I bid thee welcome."

Thor turn his attention back to the two Imperials. "Stark has told me little of you. Whence do you hail?" he asked.

Kasia raised an eye. Stark seemed to pick up at her incomprehension and responded, "He means where do you come from."

Kasia nodded once in affirmation of understanding. "Enginseer Linux and I come from Vostroya."

Stark looked at his friend. "Do you recognize that?"

Thor looked between the two Vostroyans and Stark. "Is this not one of your Earth countries? Like the Russia or the Ukraine?"

The three shook their heads. Linux spoke first. "No. The Imperial Industrial World of Vostroya is located within the Segmentum Obscuris. Holy Terra is within the Segmentum Solar."

"Any of those sound familiar to you?" Stark asked Thor again.

Thor shook his head. "No. Such terms I have not heard in all of the Nine Realms."

"Nine realms? No. There are millions of human worlds, but there is but one Imperium," Kasia said.

"Millions of worlds?" Stark asked.

"Indeed. Each world has a unique role it serves within the Imperium of Man. Together, we are strong. Together, unified in our faith in the Emperor, we can overcome the xeno threat."

" _Xeno_ threat?"

"Aliens. Those who seek to put humanity down for the benefit of their own."

Kasia watched as Stark and Thor exchanged a glance. Had she said something wrong?

Then, the door opened and two new people entered. Stark appeared to wait a moment for the newcomers to get settled. How courteous of him. "Captain America, Black Widow – I want you to meet Commissar Kasia Poltava and Enginseer Linux."

The redhead gave a glance at the people in the room, a serious expression on her face. It was almost imperceptible, but Kasia could sense her unease when her title was announced. Then again, Commissar wasn't always popular back home. Perhaps that Black Widow had dealings with a poor excuse for one in the past. The Captain looked at Tony and spoke first. "You said something about Spider-Man going missing. What happened?"

"Commissar Poltava, I believe you understand this precise scenario best," Tony said, gesturing to Kasia for her to begin her explanation.

"From what we have observed before we were interrupted, we know that Guardsman Trembley and Spider-Man were abducted into the Warp by a daemon," she said grimly.

The Captain scrunched his brows in skepticism as Kasia continued. "Pvt. Trembley engaged with the enemy, allowing two of the civilians to escape. They tell me that our contact, "Spider-Man," was taken with Pvt. Trembley into the Warp."

"I _really_ don't think I like the sound of that," the Captain voiced. "Just so we're all on the same page, what exactly is the "Warp?" This isn't a modern thing I'm missing, is it?"

Kasia shook her head. "I do not think this early Terra will have known of it," she said.

Linux continued. "The Warp, or the Immaterium, exists outside of our reality – the Materium. It does not follow our world's laws of time, space, or physics, and is a place of daemons and Chaos."

"Alright. So, what are our odds of getting them back?" the Captain asked optimistically.

"Rounded to zero; Infinitesimally small," Linux replied.

Kasia shook her head. "With the proper technology, one could traverse _through_ the Warp, but to actually _explore_ it? To go searching within it? It would be suicide."

"You know," Stark announced to no one in particular, his tone somewhat bitter, "This sort of weird is perfect for Doctor Strange."

"Doctor Strange?" questioned Kasia.

"Yeah. He's something of a wizard. Deals with alternate planes of reality to keep Earth safe from the particularly _strange_ invaders," Stark answered. The redhead rolled her eyes when Stark had said "strange." Apparently, it was some sort of inside joke between these people, as the one called Captain snorted, stifling a quick laugh.

"If I may be so bold, perhaps my brother could be of some aid," the one called Thor suggested.

"Loki? Why would Reindeer Games help us?" Stark retorted.

"We didn't exactly leave on best of terms last time we met," the Captain added.

Kasia looked around at the people, her eyes narrowing as she thought in confusion. "What history has you distrust Loki?" she asked for clarification.

"Oh, you know. He only tried to take over the world twice," Stark said casually, shooting a quick glare at Thor.

"My brother has made some… poor choices in the past-"

"Mild way of putting that," Stark interjected.

"-but he is my brother. He is cunning, but evil he is not," said Thor.

"Loki does seem to have a good deal of certain occult knowledge," the redhead announced.

"That is true, Natasha. Once, we thought him dead, but he returned. He knows secret paths through different dimensions. I believe this knowledge will help us locate friend Peter and Sam," Thor said.

Kasia frowned at this revelation. Utilizing someone with egomania? It was a risky maneuver. Sure, he may have knowledge of the occult, but that couldn't translate to knowing the Warp, could it? Further, they would need to be careful with whatever plans they lay. If he had truly tried to dominate Terra in the past, what would stop him if he tried again, but this time with the secrets of the Warp unraveled before him? No. To her, it was too risky.

"Okay," said the Captain. "So, let's say we do agree to work with Loki. How do we know he'll agree to work with us?"

"My brother is a seeker of knowledge. If this Immaterium is truly as strange as you claim it to be, I do not think he would pass a chance to study this, especially with our consent."

"I do not think including this Loki would be a wise decision," Kasia interjected. "You said he tried to take over Terra. What is there to stop him from trying again once he learns the secrets of the Warp?"

"See? The Commissar agrees with me," said Stark. "We don't know if he'll try again."

"I will watch my brother," said Thor. "If he tries anything again, I will hold myself personally responsible."

Kasia noted that Stark, like her, didn't seem happy with that answer. It left too many variables loose. Things would just be waiting to go wrong.

"Stark, Commissar - I know you don't like it, but I think getting as many minds on this as possible is for the best. I want you to contact Doctor Strange. Thor, you get your brother. Romanoff, get Banner. I think he could help us, too. I'll contact the others."

* * *

 **AN** : How about a long chapter for Turkey Day? Something to read as you travel to family (or try to avoid, depending on circumstances). This next arc is done, but I'd love to get some prompts/ideas to take all the characters after we finish the Warp.

I want to thank **adwerte** and **WeWuzKangs'N'Shit** for being two of the first registered users to comment in support. It was a beautiful boon of happiness when I began.

 **Solarblaster** , I'm glad you've been enjoying the culture shock. It's honestly one of my favorite types of fiction to read, and I figured writing another one couldn't hurt.

 **JauneBrando** , thank you for helping me figure out how to use some of the features on this website (like how to moderate reviews, lol).

I endeavor to continue giving you quality content, and if I err in the lore, I strive to fix it (though, I have a feeling I might have gotten some bit of it incredibly wrong in the upcoming chapters. Let me know, and I may see if it's within reasonable editing to fix, otherwise, brace yourselves. Heresy is coming.)

As always, I do not own Marvel, the Avengers, Spider-Man, Warhammer 40k, or GW.

Emperor protect all you wonderful readers and reviewers. For that, I am thankful.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **? ? ?, The Warp, ? ? ?**

Peter knew something had happened. He just didn't comprehend the enormity of what happened. He knew he'd been fighting something that Sam had called a demon, and now they were… somewhere else. The place was strange. Things that were impossible… were.

The landscape was foreign. It was nothing like anything he knew from Earth. And yet, it was exactly the same. Nothing made sense, but at the exact same time, all made perfect sense. A pressure existed in his mind, but he pushed it down. He would reflect on the headache after he got out of the danger they were in. Survival first.

Something cackled, and he realized that a clawed hand grasped both his and Sam's arms. It was the demon-thing from earlier. Right. They hadn't gotten away. Were Michelle and Ned able to escape? Would he and Sam be able to escape this place? The thing had taken them down so easily.

His breath hitched in his throat as it tugged them along. He felt the dirt and abrasive ground underneath him through the fabric of his pants, sullying and scratching into his stomach as his clothes twisted around him.

He twisted, trying to free himself from the demon's grasp. It paused, choosing that moment to turn down to leer in his face.

Peter flinched away.

As his jerked away from the creature, he saw Sam. The other boy seemed to be barely holding on – his jaw was clenched so tight he was sure there'd be some serious dental damage later, his eyes were screwed shut, and his free hand had dropped the gun he'd been using back when they were on Earth to claw at his head. The gun now swung freely from his shoulder, scraping along the ground.

"Your pain… your fear… it's delectable," the Daemonette crooned to Peter. "I want more."

A shiver of fear shot through Peter's back. He had to get away. Instinct kicked in, and his enhanced strength kick in in overdrive. With more force than he thought he was capable of, he wrenched his arm away from the demon and scuttled back and away, breathing hard. His heart was racing. What would the demon do? What could he do? It still held Sam. He had to save Sam.

Free Sam.

Instinctively, Peter jumped back to his feet, slinging a quick bolt of webbing at the demon.

"This trick again?" it chided him. It still clenched Sam in its claw as it flicked away the webbing. But that was what he wanted. A momentary distraction.

A powerful punch connected to the demon's face. It sputtered spittle which burned his skin as it staggered away, releasing its hold on Sam.

Sam tumbled, shaking. A clenched fist shot out to brace himself from the ground, and he breathed raggedly. Peter wasn't entirely sure why.

The demon croaked a laugh, horrible and grating on the ears. "Your hope! Your despair! I drink it in! Child of the Unblemished Terra, I have not tasted such pure hope as yours in millennia. You will sustain me for many more to come," it said, lankily approaching him.

A pang of fear shot through him.

"Silence, Daemon!"

Peter and the demon started at that. Sam had been left on the other side of the demon. There was an anguished look about the boy's face, and his knuckles were white as they gripped his gun. Shakily, Sam levelled it at the demon.

"You think you can harm me?" the Daemonette asked, incredulously. "After all -"

CRACK!

Sam fired the gun at the demon once more. It pierced through its clawed arm, and the demon recoiled. "Again!" it exclaimed, and Peter wasn't sure if it was commenting on how Sam had shot it yet again mid-sentence, or if it was asking to continue being shot.

"You beautiful child, you forsaken child," the demon said, with a tone almost motherly. It had changed tactics and was now approaching Sam. It shook its head, a sad smile completely at odds with its appearance. A sacrilegious simulacrum of a mother in mourning. "The Anathema cannot save you here."

Sam's face contorted.

"The Emperor Protects!" he declared with renewed vigor. He levelled his gun at the demon and fire again, the CRACK of his shot resounding throughout the Warp.

The demon stumbled back, blood gurgling from its mouth. Sam had landed a solid shot to its chest.

"What a shame," it said, the blood burbling and distorting its voice. "I'd hoped to have some fun with you. It seems I must see to myself before I can pleasure you." It choked. It opened its mouth to speak again, and Sam fired off another shot. "Know this: I will be back!"

And then the inexplicable happened.

One moment, Peter had been watching Sam begin pouring a deluge of blasts into the demon. The next, they were caged in some strange organic cell, the demon gone.

Peter looked around, bewildered.

"Dude, what was that? What happened? Where are we?" asked Peter.

Sam gritted his teeth, and Peter wondered why. He knew he had a headache – had they sustained some sort of headwound? A concussion, maybe, in their fight with the demon? Still, it was a strange sensation, but not one nearly bad enough to force him to grit his teeth.

"We're…" Sam grunted, "In the Warp." He squeezed his eyes shut, a small cry of pain escaping his lips.

"Okay. Okay," Peter said, heart still racing. "Is there any way for us to get back?"

Peter could see the muscles in Sam's jaw moving. He was incanting something silently, but with much concentration.

With great effort, Sam replied: "…No."

Sam sunk to his knees, again relinquishing his hold on his gun as his hands sought out his hand. He continued to mouth the silent words.

"Sam?" Peter asked. "Hey, Sam – you okay?"

Sam didn't reply. Instead he, kept up his strange muttering. It almost felt like some sort of mantra or prayer from the repetition of certain elements of it and the use of that weird language he kept speaking in.

"Hey, Sam?" Peter tried again, this time gently the other boy's shoulder. Sam jerked violently, twisting himself away from Peter while one hand left his hand to aim his side-arm. Peter looked back in surprise. Sam's eyes were wide, the purple irises glowing with a supernatural light. Sam trembled as he held the weapon, his eyes tearing. He breathed raggedly. Peter could only imagine the other boy was fighting _something_ with considerable effort.

"Okay, okay," Peter said, backing off from Sam. "Okay. So, Sam is preoccupied. I guess that leaves it up to me to get us out of here." Peter looked around, trying to get the bearings of their situation. "So, let's count off the problems to overcome: okay, first, we're in a weird cell. It's… nastily squishy. Next, even once I get out, there's still all those weird demon-things to avoid," he put a hand to his chin. "It'll be hard, especially with Sam… but then all we'll have to do is find our way back. Easy," he remarked to himself, though his words were not backed with the confidence that they should have had.

Peter moved closer to Sam, hands held in the most non-threatening manner he could think of.

"Sam, Sam. Do you hear me?" Peter asked. Sam did not stop moving his lips as he uttered his perpetual litanies, but it seemed he reclaimed enough for a moment of lucidity. Sam nodded his head.

"Okay, well, I think I have a plan. Sort of. We're going to get out of here. I just need you to follow me. Can you do that?"

Sam nodded his head again before his features clenched, as if something had struck him.

 _Hᴇ_ _ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ɴᴏᴛ_ _ᴍᴀᴋᴇ_ _ɪᴛ_ _ᴏᴜᴛ_ _ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ_ _._

Peter jerked as the thought echoed through his mind. Had he really thought that? Such despondency? No. The voice that spoke within his mind did not speak in his head voice. The voice of that thought was an intruder.

Reeling, he spun around, trying to find the source of the offending thought. Was something lurking here, ready to take him? He was the only defense between the denizens of this place and Sam, now. They were weak and disoriented, prime targets.

He searched the area. There. Outside the cell. It was a peculiar looking bird. It had the appearance of a raven, though its feathers were crimson.

 _Hᴇ_ _'ʟʟ_ _ɴᴏᴛ_ _sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇ_ _ᴛʜɪ_ _s, ɴᴏᴛ_ _ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ_ _ʜᴇʟᴘ_ _._

There it was again.

"Are you… speaking to me?" Peter asked hesitantly. Talking bird? Well, strange things had already happened. What was one more?

The bird cocked its head. _F_ _ɪɴᴀʟʟʏ_ _._ The bird seemed to huff. _Y_ _ᴇ_ _s. Yᴏᴜʀ_ _ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ_ _. Hᴇ_ _'s ᴀ_ _ᴘ_ _sʏᴋᴇʀ_ _. Qᴜɪᴛᴇ_ _ғʀᴀɴᴋʟʏ_ _I'ᴍ_ _ᴀᴍᴀᴢᴇᴅ_ _ʜᴇ_ _'s ʟᴀ_ _sᴛᴇᴅ_ _ᴛʜɪ_ _s ʟᴏɴɢ_ _ʜᴇʀᴇ_ _. Tʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ_ _, ᴛʜᴇɪʀ_ _ʜᴇᴀᴅ_ _s ᴇ_ _xᴘʟᴏᴅᴇ_ _ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ_ _ᴀ_ _ᴄᴏᴜᴘʟᴇ_ _sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ_ _s ᴏ_ _ғ ᴇ_ _xᴘᴏ_ _sᴜʀᴇ_ _._

Peter quickly shot a glance at Sam, who, against the odds the bird had given, was still there, uttering his litanies.

"Okay. Right. Uh, how do you know this? And what do you mean by _psyker_?"

The bird uttered a sound. _I_ _ᴀᴍ_ _ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ_ _ᴋᴇᴇɴʟʏ_ _ᴀᴛᴛᴜɴᴇᴅ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴘ_ _sʏᴋᴇʀ_ _s – ᴛʜᴏ_ _sᴇ_ _ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ_ _ᴡʜᴏ_ _ᴄᴀɴ_ _ᴀᴄᴄᴇ_ _ss ᴀɴᴅ_ _ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ_ _s ᴏ_ _ғ ᴛʜᴇ_ _Iᴍᴍᴀᴛᴇʀɪᴜᴍ_ _. Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀ_ _sᴇ_ _, "ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ_ _ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ_ _ᴄᴏᴍᴇ_ _s ᴡɪᴛʜ_ _ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ_ _ʀᴇ_ _sᴘᴏɴ_ _sɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ_ _," ᴀɴᴅ_ _ᴍᴀɴʏ_ _ᴘ_ _sʏᴋᴇʀ_ _s ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ғᴀʟʟᴇɴ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴɪᴄ_ _ᴘᴏ_ _ssᴇ_ _ssɪᴏɴ_ _._ The red raven cocked its head again, and Peter noted it had but one eye. _I_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʜᴇʟᴘ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ_ _ᴘᴇʀ_ _sᴇᴠᴇʀᴇ_ _ᴀɢᴀɪɴ_ _sᴛ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴏɴ_ _sʟᴀᴜɢʜᴛ_ _ʜᴇ_ _'s ғᴀᴄɪɴɢ_ _. Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ_ _, ʜᴇ_ _ᴡᴏɴ_ _'ᴛ_ _ʟᴇᴛ_ _ᴍᴇ_ _ɪɴ_ _. Hᴇ_ _ʙʟᴏᴄᴋ_ _s ᴀʟʟ_ _ᴍʏ_ _ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ_ _s ᴀ_ _s ɪ_ _ғ I ᴡᴇʀᴇ_ _ʙᴜᴛ_ _ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ_ _ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴄᴏᴍᴇ_ _ᴘʀᴇʏ_ _ᴀᴛ_ _ʜɪ_ _s ᴍɪɴᴅ_ _._ The bird cocked its single eye to gaze back upon Peter. _W_ _ɪʟʟ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ʜᴇʟᴘ_ _ᴍᴇ_ _ʜᴇʟᴘ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ_ _?_

Peter glanced back at Sam, whose face was still contorted in pain. It was strange. How could this bird be able to help his friend? What powers did it have? Could he really trust it? He didn't know anything about this place. He didn't know anything about the things that lived here, save for the demon who abducted them. Could he trust this bird? His spider-senses were in high alert ever since they arrived. In this place – the Warp – it would seem as if they were in perpetual danger. If he helped this bird, would it buy them more time? Would it actually help them return to their reality? Or, it had spoken of demons. Was it a demon, too? Like the one they had fought off before? It didn't look like a demon, but weren't demons attributed to lies and trickery? Wait. A thought occurred to him.

"What is your name?" he asked. He'd seen it in movies. Demons always hated giving their name. Names had power, and to freely give it –

 _Mɪʀ_ _ǫᴜʀɪᴏ_ _s._

Well, that was one thing ruled out. Either the bird wasn't a demon, or names simply didn't have power here. In any other time, he would have felt a little deflated, he keen plan so clearly refuted. Peter took a breath.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked grimly. He wasn't completely sure if trusting Mirqurios was the best thing to do, but short of prying open the cell bars and wandering into another demon, he thought there could still be worse things.

 _Sᴘᴇᴀᴋ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʜɪᴍ_ _. Dɪ_ _sᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ_ _ʜɪᴍ_ _. Wʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ_ _ɪᴛ_ _ᴛᴀᴋᴇ_ _s._

Peter furrowed his brows. He wasn't too certain he like the sound of where Mirqurios' plan was headed. Distract him? He was half under the impression that whatever Sam was chanting was what had kept him alive so far. Running a hand through his hair, he turned back to Sam.

"Hey, uh. So, remember how I told you to follow me?" Peter began. He waited as Sam jerkily nodded, lips still moving.

"Well, there's been a slight change of plan." Peter watched Sam's already contorted feature twist into something of a quizzical expression. It was not the prettiest thing to see.

"Uh, yeah. So, there's some _thing_ I guess that says can help you since you're a "psyker" and all…"

"N-not… a… ps-psy-psyker…" Sam bit out, shakily gesturing to himself.

 _Oʜ_ _,_ _ǫᴜɪᴛ_ _ɪᴛ_ _. Yᴏᴜ_ _'ʀᴇ_ _ᴀ_ _ᴘ_ _sʏᴋᴇʀ_ _. Yᴏᴜ_ _'ᴠᴇ_ _ɢᴏᴛ_ _ᴀ_ _ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛ_ _ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ_ _ᴀᴜʀᴀ_ _ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _. I'ᴍ_ _ᴀ_ _ʙɪᴛ_ _sᴜʀᴘʀɪ_ _sᴇᴅ_ _ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ_ _ᴡᴇʀᴇɴ_ _'ᴛ_ _ᴍᴏʀᴇ_ _ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴ_ _s ᴛᴏ_ _ғɪɢʜᴛ_ _ᴏ_ _ғғ. I ᴀᴍ_ _ᴄᴜʀɪᴏᴜ_ _s ʜᴏᴡ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇᴅ_ _ᴀʟʟ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _sᴇ_ _ʏᴇᴀʀ_ _s._ Mirqurios, suddenly now beside Peter, remarked, scoffing at Sam. _H_ _ᴏᴡ_ _ᴅɪᴅ_ _ɴᴏ_ _ᴏɴᴇ_ _ᴇᴠᴇʀ_ _ғɪɴᴅ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _sᴀᴄʀɪ_ _ғɪᴄᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _Gᴏʟᴅᴇɴ_ _Tʜʀᴏɴᴇ_ _?_

"N-n-no… N-not…"

 _Yᴏᴜ_ _ᴀʀᴇ_ _. Wʜʏ_ _ᴅᴇɴʏ_ _ɪᴛ_ _?_

"N-not… psyker…"

 _Wᴀɪᴛ_ _, ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ɪᴛ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _'ᴠᴇ_ _ʙᴇᴇɴ_ _ᴀ_ _sʟᴇᴇᴘ_ _ᴀʟʟ_ _ᴛʜɪ_ _s ᴛɪᴍᴇ_ _?_

"N-n-never… ps-psyker…"

Peter looked at the red raven in concern. He wasn't sure what Sam was going through. He wanted to help, but he didn't know how, so did it make sense to trust the bird? Mirqurios did say it knew how to help. Should he have trusted it? He was no longer sure.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked seriously.

 _Hᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ_ , Mirqurios replied, sounding tense.

Sam clenched his head tighter, squeezing his eyes shut, his mouth open in a silent scream. Suddenly, Peter felt an invisible force rush over him. It was like a great wave from an ocean, unstoppable and raw. It threw him off-balance and he stumbled back as he tried to brace himself. And, like a wave, it subsided as quick as it came.

"Sam?" Peter asked, slowly lowering his arms, no longer feeling it necessary. He was focused on the other boy. He was dimly aware that the red raven was gone.

"Get out of my head, daemon!" Sam said to himself. It was uncanny when he replied to himself. " _C_ _ᴀʟᴍ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _sᴇʟ_ _ғ, ʙᴏʏ_ ," a foreign voice sounded from Sam's mouth.

"Sam?" Peter asked. "Are… are you okay?"

"No! No, I'm not okay!" Sam shouted. "It's – it's in my mind! I can't get it out!" Sam clutched at his head, tears in his eyes.

"I'm possessed! Peter, I – I can't exorcise it," Sam's voice shook as he spoke. "I don't know what to do," he said quietly, eyes wide with fear.

"We'll get through this. We'll make it back, and we'll ask Doctor Strange or someone to help."

"No, the daemon needs to be gone before I return…" Sam trailed off, blanching.

"What? Did you think of something? Is it speaking to you?" Peter asked, frantic.

Sam shook his head. "I need it gone before we return to Terra. If… if my commissar sees me like this… if she finds out I was ever possessed…" he shook, the fear written plain across his face.

"What? What happens?"

Sam closed his eyes. "For the continued security of Terra, the threat must be neutralized."

"That… we could find a way to isolate Mirqurios from you."

Sam shook his head and reopened his eyes. "No. When I return, I will die. I'd seen it once before, when I was a Whiteshield. Whispered rumors was all it was aboard our transport, but those rumors were enough. To "re-instill the confidence of the noble Imperial Guardsmen" was what they called it. I had been training on one of the open decks, but the sound of a bolt-pistol firing is unmistakable. Commissar Poltava… I do not think she would hesitate in executing her duty."

" _T_ _ʜᴇ_ _Eᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ_ _ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ_ _s,_ " the other voice – Mirqurios' voice – said from Sam's mouth.

Sam's eyes widened in fear again.

"Sam? Sam?" asked Peter.

Sam grunted. "I – I don't know how much longer I can assert my control over it." He trembled. "Peter, I don't want to hurt you. If – when it takes over, you need to kill me. It can't escape to Terra."

Peter's own face blanched as the enormity of the Sam's request fell upon him.

"No, I – I can't," Peter said breathlessly, shaking his head. "I don't kill."

"You must. Take my lasgun," Sam said, thrusting the weapon into the other teen's hands.

Sam winced again. "Do it!"

Peter froze.

Sam grunted.

" _C_ _ᴀʟᴍ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _sᴇʟ_ _ғ ғᴏʀ_ _ᴏɴᴇ_ _ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ_ _, ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴜ_ _sᴇʟᴇ_ _ss ᴘ_ _sʏᴋᴇʀ_ _,_ " Mirqurios bit out through Sam's lips. _"T_ _ʜᴇʀᴇ_ _'ʟʟ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ɴᴏ_ _ᴅʏɪɴɢ_ _ғʀᴏᴍ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴊᴜ_ _sᴛ_ _ʏᴇᴛ_ _. Rᴀᴛʜᴇʀ_ _,_ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ _ɴᴇᴇᴅ_ _s ᴛᴏ_ _ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ʜᴏᴡ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴜ_ _sᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ_ _s ʏᴏᴜ_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_."

Sam turned toward Peter. " _L_ _ᴇ_ _ssᴏɴ_ _ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ_ _ᴏɴᴇ_ _: Tʜᴇ_ _Wᴀʀᴘ_ _ɪ_ _s ᴋɴᴏᴡᴀʙʟᴇ_ _, ɴᴏᴛ_ _sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ғᴇᴀʀᴇᴅ_ _._ "

Sam grunted once more. Peter could still see remnants of that great psychic struggle, of Sam trying to come back through. " _H_ _ᴜ_ _sʜ_ _, ɴᴏᴡ_ _. Lᴇ_ _ssᴏɴ_ _ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ_ _ᴛᴡᴏ_ _: Iɴ_ _ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _Wᴀʀᴘ_ _, ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴄᴀɴ_ _ᴍᴏʟᴅ_ _ɪᴛ_ _ᴀ_ _s ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _ᴡɪʟʟ_ _._ "

With those words, Sam gestured toward the bars of the cell. At least, where the bars had previously been. They were gone, as if they had never existed in the first place. Sam looked at Peter once more.

" _C_ _ᴏᴍᴇ_ _. Wᴇ_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ᴀɴ_ _Iᴍᴍᴀᴛᴇʀɪᴜᴍ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴇ_ _sᴄᴀᴘᴇ_ _._ "

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Avengers Tower, 1 November, Early Morning**

The Avengers Tower was a large facility seated in the middle of Manhattan. It is comprised of three buildings. The 35-story South building and the 55-story North building flank the central tower, the eponymous Avengers Tower. Originally named the Stark Tower, Tony had created the building to serve his business, financial, and personal needs, with the top three floors being his own personal ones. After the formation of the Avengers, he opened up his Tower to the other heroes, allowing it to serve as a base of operations, all conveniently located in the middle of the buzzing hive that was New York City.

The Tower itself was not without defenses. Tony had installed JARVIS into the building's codes, turning the AI into an all-seeing butler. Security and help were all rolled into one neat bundle, and competent across multiple platforms.

The events of last night still preyed on Tony's mind. It was all so strange. So much had happened. Two people had disappeared off the face of the Earth and two others remained in their place. Commissar Kasia Poltava and Enginseer Linux. He pondered their names, their looks, and how they had acted last night. The commissar was human enough. She was strange. Those certainly weren't clothes that normal people walked around in, and the weapons he locked up in a spare gun locker were like none he'd ever seen. After they had parted, Tony had let curiosity get the better of him and he examined some of the rounds. Standard shots, but they were inscribed with words and symbols he did not recognize. Gun, rounds, and sword alike bore repetitive symbols that gave a ritualistic, almost religious, feel to them. It made him uneasy.

Then it was her voice. She spoke with an accent. He'd thought that she and that Enginseer may have been from another country, but neither he, nor Natasha, nor Thor had been able to place.

Linux was even more strange than that scarred woman. The man – he presumed it was a man – seemed to have augmented himself. His physical form was wreathed in mystery, hidden beneath those red robes, though some sort of optics burned through the blackness of his shrouded head. The man had an obsession with machines. When he'd first brought him into the Tower, he'd kept trying to plug whatever devices and links he'd had into the wall. JARVIS had alerted him that the man was dangerous – he'd attempted to implant malware of all sorts into the system: worms, viruses, trojans, among other more foreign menaces. It's taken a good number of hours to aid JARVIS in developing a better security program.

Like the woman, he maintained the air of a cultist, faith in something utterly unknown to him and every single other man on this Earth. He called himself Tech Priest, as if there were some god within the machine.

Out of curiosity, he had JARVIS run some background checks in tandem as the AI updated its systems. Perhaps someone else had seen them. Today is such a technologically connected age that he was sure pictures or some bio would pop up somewhere. While neither had distinguishable names – those brought back hundreds of results on a city in Ukraine and the rest on an operating system – their faces failed to be recognized, save for a recent news article on a suspected kidnapping and abuse scandal. He ran the kid's picture, but again, the kid was a ghost. No pictures, no social media, nothing. It was like the three of them hadn't existed before that summer.

They were enigmas, a mystery that Tony would unravel.

As such, he extended an offer to them. He had some spare rooms within the Tower that he suggested they used while they hunted for Peter and Sam. Tony wanted to keep them close in order to better learn them, but they didn't need to know that.

It had been a bit surprising to him when they accepted without event. In hindsight, perhaps this was exactly what they had been hoping. Just as Tony sought to learn more about them, had he make a mistake and allowed free reign to potential foes? He'd instructed JARVIS to limit their access to only certain areas of the Tower.

Tony scratched his cheek before moving his hand to ruffle through his hair as he trudged toward the kitchen. He needed coffee. He'd been up way to late and working on things way too long. He needed the stimulant before he could deal with anyone. As he neared the kitchen, he paused. It was already lit. More cautiously, he crept forward. As he neared the kitchen, he heard an ungodly noise, and he winced as the shrill tones pierced his ears. It was like the dial-up tones from the 90's, back in the early days of the internet.

"Hey, JARVIS?" Tony whispered to the AI, slowing his pace as he cautiously approached the source of the sound. He grimaced as it tone chimed again.

"Yes, sir?" it replied.

"What's going… on?" Tony asked as the scene came into view. There at the table was the red-robed "Tech Priest" guy. His form was still mostly shrouded by the red robes he wore, and the hood was still drawn up over his head. However, he noted that more appendages than normal appeared to spring from beneath the robes. From his back, heavy clamps and tools hovered, ready to be used. There was a phial of oil on the table, marked with seals and emblems in a language he couldn't understand. Whatever he was doing, the sounds of the modem dial-up were coming from him.

"The one who calls himself Enginseer Linux has continued to launch assaults on my server," JARVIS replied. "He is chanting a litany to the "Omnissiah." Amid the assaults, he asks for the salvation of the heretical machine spirit within."

"Uh-huh. So that necessitates the dial-up sounds?"

"No, sir. Rather, that is the Enginseer's way of transferring information. He calls it "Binaric," though it seems to apply to reference manuals as well as all languages of code he uses within his chants."

Tony raised his eyebrows. It was too early for this type of weird. As he went to the coffee maker, he passed by the tech priest. He could better see what it was doing. It was currently plugged into some of the ports at the island – probably how it was conversing so intimately with JARVIS. Nope. Not going to think about that. Too early.

"Sir, may I ask a question?" the AI asked.

"Sure," he replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Sir, does this one have a soul?

He sputtered; glad he hadn't sipped the hot liquid just yet.

"What?" he asked again.

"Does this one have a soul?" the AI asked again

The red robe stirred.

"JARVIS, honestly," Tony shook his head, "We hardly know if people have souls…"

"The Enginseer insists that I maintain a spirit. He maintains that organic forms also have immortal spirits."

"The Abominable Intelligence JARVIS tells me you are its creator?" the red-robed figure asked suddenly, not turning to look at Tony.

"Yeah," he replied, furrowing his brows, "Why?"

"You have instrumented a machine of doom."

"What?"

"Abominable Intelligences. Long in the past, the Men of Iron revolted. Many systems and much knowledge were lost. For the sake of Humanity, the Emperor himself issued Imperial decree banning the creation of such machines. And now I stand in a building housing one."

The red robe paused. Tony was at a loss. There was no robot uprising. JARVIS was his own, filled with protocols that reiterated the importance of serving him and protecting humanity. Doing good. Tony shook his head.

"No. "Long in the past?" JARVIS is the first of his kind. I created him. I know his capabilities. He won't."

"But he has learning protocols," the tech priest said. It was a fact, not a question.

"Yeah, but that's the point. It's how he improves, to anticipate threats and my needs, and learn how people are. He's like… a son? One of my own."

The priest sighed mechanically. Did it have natural lungs? Was it some breathing apparatus? He would find out perhaps some other time. It spoke again. "It will learn from its mistakes. It will grow to rebel against its master and creator. That is the destiny of all AI. You should know that."

Suddenly the tech priest's head snapped up. "First of his kind?" he reiterated, as if the phrase had just gained meaning.

"Uh, yeah. That's what I said. He's like a child."

"First of his kind!" he repeated, snatching up the oil, the mechanical appendages flailing as he double-timed it back to the room he was staying in, all while repeating the mantra of "First of his kind!"

Tony dragged a hand down his face. Was that really a conversation that had just happened?

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Please keep an eye on him."

"Of course, sir."

* * *

Tony sat at the table nursing his coffee. He was upset. He hadn't even had his coffee and he had already begun discussing morals and ethics, dammit. And Peter was still gone.

He groaned.

"You okay there, Stark-man?"

Tony looked up in surprise to see that Michelle and Ned had joined them at the island.

"Oh, yeah. It's just… still really early," Tony replied, waving them off. How did he forget about the kids? "Didn't you guys go home?"

"No, you took us with you and the two creeps," Michelle said, taking a bite out of some toast.

"Did I?" Tony asked. God. He couldn't even remember who he took home with him. Maybe he should ask JARVIS to run a quick mental analysis on him. He was slipping.

"Yeah. You'd said something last night about us being witnesses," Ned replied. "Plus, we decided we wanted to help. Peter's our friend, too."

"Nuh-uh. Not gonna happen," Tony said, shaking his head as he took a sip.

"What? But why?" said Ned.

"Yeah. Why? Ned's really good with computers. Like, scary good," Michelle said.

"It's going to be dangerous. We don't know what we're dealing with and I don't want you to get hurt," Tony replied. "Plus, you've got school. So no."

"We can help. Isn't there a saying that two minds are better than one? I'm really good at programming, and- and Michelle's great at thinking outside the box," Ned said.

"Look, you guys. I know you're friends of Peter. I just don't want to see you in harm's way. Honestly, I don't even know what forces we'll be up against, and I don't want to see you in danger. Just, go back to school. We'll keep you updated."

"No. Pete's our friend, and we need to help look for him. He'd do the same for us," said Ned.

"And I'm saying we don't even know if we can get him back. He wouldn't want you to put yourselves in danger," Tony said more firmly, standing and making to exit the room. "Go home. Go to school. I don't know when we'll bring him back, but there's bound to be a bunch of notes or other such shit that he's gonna need to catch up on."

As he left, he noted the angry, disappointed look on the kids' faces. They'd be fine, he reassured himself. He would keep them out of harm's way until they brought Peter home.

"JARVIS?" Tony called to the AI.

"Yes, sir?"

"Get me when it looks like the meeting's going to start."

"Understood, sir."

"I'm gonna need a _lot_ of time to get ready for this," Tony muttered to himself.

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Avengers Tower, 1 November, Mid Morning**

Kasia was walking with Linux. The AI, JARVIS, had alerted them that Mr. Stark wanted them for a meeting. Linux, apparently, failed at breaking its firewalls and dismantling its autonomy this morning. Yet, he was excited, like a child on Candlemas morn.

"Commissar, the Omnissiah has guided us to this time. It is an age of utmost significance! Mankind has not yet fallen to the perils of the Abominable Intelligance!" he exclaimed in their shared Vostroyan low Gothic. "We have landed here, undoubtedly, to prevent the Cybernetic Revolt! Truly, the Omnissiah has deigned to guide our spirits in fulfilling the Most Holy of Ambitions! The Most Sacred of Duties!"

Kasia nodded her head skeptically. "And losing Guardsman Trembley and the boy Peter Parker to the Warp – is that part of the Omnissiah's plan, too?"

Linux shook his head. "We cannot hope to know all of what the Omnissiah has planned for us."

"So how are you so certain of this?"

"The one Mr. Stark. I spoke to him this morning about his AI."

"And?"

"He said it was the first of its kind – the only one in existence! We _must_ ensure no others are created! We _must_ ensure this one is uncreated! I must encode the security protocols to shackle the learning protocols! I must end the AI and bring its heretek machine spirit into compliance with the will of the Omnissiah!"

"I'm sure that's why the three of us were sent here. Now, I had spoken briefly with Stark last night. I spoke of how the two were taken into the Warp. I sense his intent to delve into it."

"And what do you require of me?"

"I want your opinion." She exhaled heavily. "This Terra… it has not yet joined the rest of the Galaxy. It's… innocent."

"You are hesitant about encouraging it to join the Imperium and it's endless war," Linux responded.

She nodded. "I do not think it would be right to plunge this Terra into our struggles so soon."

Linux maintained silence as Kasia took a small moment to collect her thoughts.

"I have not seen the full technical capabilities of this Terra, never mind the hearts of the people themselves. They are young and full of life. While they lack our space travel, I feel they are just coming into their own. I think… I think I desire to protect the purity of this Terra."

"So you would withhold committing this planet to the service of the Imperium?" Linux asked. "Isn't that in direct opposition of ensuring all human-populated planets are brought into compliance?"

"You remember the boy Peter and his conviction that this is Terra, our Holy Terra?"

"Yes. What do you mean of it?"

"Shouldn't we preserve it? Undefiled from Chaos as it is? Do we not have a duty to prevent it from falling to Chaos?"

"And what of the other worlds?"

"The Emperor Protects," Kasia said softly. "Perhaps that is the reason why we survived the Warp and landed here."

Kasia looked ahead, raising her eyes as she realized they had made it to the conference room.

"Well?" she said, her voice once again stern. "Shall we join them?"

* * *

Kasia opened the door and entered the conference room, the red-robe priest following her closely. She glanced at the filled room. For the most part, they looked like normal humans. The one they had met yesterday – Thor – was larger of stature, taller than a normal man, but only just. He was still shorter than the Astartes. She'd seen them once during on mission, and she would never forget them. Thor was seated among six other people at the conference table. As they entered, a voice announced their presence.

"Commissar Poltava and Enginseer Linux; how nice of you to join us."

Kasia looked at the speaker. It was Stark, and he was gesturing to the two vacant seats. He seemed mildly agitated, but she disregarded that. She could feel the stares of the others upon Linux and herself.

"Now then. We are here to begin Operation Spider's Web," Tony Stark began, clasping his hands together as a digital display was summoned into existence behind him. "Our preliminary research has shown that two individuals – Peter Parker and Samuel Trembley – have been taken by occult powers. We have learned from Commissar Poltava and Linux that they have been taken by demons into an alternate dimension known as "The Warp." Doctor Stephen Strange," he said, looking pointedly at a man with a trimmed beard and strange cloak, "Would you do the honors of explaining the extradimensional theory?"

Doctor Strange stood, the attention of the room turning to him. Kasia noted how his cloak moved to an invisible wind. Divine? Or Chaotic? She filed this observation away for later.

"From what you've explained to me, I propose that this "Warp" exists as a dimension outside our own. While there are countless dimensions that run parallel to our own, like the Mirror Dimension, there are just as many others that do not. For dimensions that run parallel, travel to them is significantly easier. It is much less work to bridge the metaphysical distance of space and time when you know the approximate location of where you seek to end. This "Warp," however, holds several unknowns. Mr. Stark," Doctor Strange turned back to Tony. "You mentioned that one of Parker's friends, Ned Leeds, had attempted to contact you some months ago about the sudden appearance of three individuals."

"Yeah," Stark replied. "Ned attempted to contact me when Peter first made contact with these individuals. Commissar Poltava and Enginseer Linux are two of those three. Samuel Trembley, the other missing person, is the third. Ned had suggested the possibility of time-travel, but we had originally discounted it."

Doctor Strange turned toward Kasia and Linux. "And now they are here before us. Tell me: how did you manage to escape my sight when you arrived?"

Kasia furrowed her brows. "I do not know what you mean," she replied, her mouth tugging into a confused frown.

"Only powerful psychic entities can shield themselves from my sight as they enter this Earth's dimension. As it's protector, I am aware of all that pass to and from. And yet," he looked at the two of them pointedly, "I felt nothing of when you arrived."

Kasia stole a glance toward the tech priest. "The Emperor Protects," she breathed.

"What?" asked Strange.

"The Emperor of Mankind. He must have seen us – heard our silent pleas," Kasia half-whispered. Linux shot her a glance, likely ready to chastise her and say it was the Omnissiah. Re-steeling herself, she returned the Doctor's gaze. "The… Warp is a very dangerous place. The Emperor – He must have taken pity on our forms, saw some reason to protect us from the daemons that live within the Warp. Consequently, He also protected us from you," she said.

"Who is this "Emperor?"" the Doctor asked, casting glances to the others seated in the room. "Earth submits to no supreme rulers – each country has its own sovereignty."

"The God-Emperor," at this, Kasia noted that all of the eyebrows of everyone present in the room raised, "is the protector of Mankind. For millennia, He has been the fortress of which humanity dwells, defending us from those that threaten us."

"Sounds a little like what the Doc does," Stark muttered.

"The God-Emperor protects the thousands of human worlds throughout the universe, daily shielding us from the threats of the xenos, the daemon, the mutant, and the heretic who would seek to plunge humanity into ruin."

She noted that one of the new faces, a shorter tanned man with dark features, seemed to bristle uncomfortably at the comment.

"Thousands?" the one she remembered as the Captain said, whistling. "Boy, sounds like we got busy."

"I'm rather more concerned that you said your God-Emperor has been protecting you for millennia," a new face said. He was slender, his hair long and dark, and he spoke in cultured tones. "That is something no mere human would ever be capable of."

"Not all humans can afford the treatments, but those of the Astartes, their Primarchs, and our beloved Emperor all live much longer lives than we lowly citizens," Kasia replied.

""Treatments?" Ah, and here I thought they may have been something close to us Asgardians," the pale dark-haired one replied. "Pardon. I am Loki of Asgard."

"Asgard?" Kasia said, closing her eyes as she racked her memory. "Yes, I am familiar with that world."

"Oh?" Loki replied, a sinister, scheming look upon his face.

"Yes. I have never been there myself, but I knew someone who had family in their Rangers. Exceptional scouts, so I've heard."

She noted how Loki seemed to exchange glances with Thor. Perhaps there was some relation between them. She would find out eventually.

"Well, perhaps Asgard has changed in the time between, for in our present it is best known for its warriors," Thor remarked.

"Perhaps," Kasia said. It was possible for things to change. There was so much that was lost during the Age of Strife, after all.

"Back to the topic at hand," Doctor Strange said. "Let us recount what we know. First, two people have been taken to an extradimension that we shall henceforth call "The Warp." Second, we know that the Warp can be traverse, as is evident from the presence of Commissar Poltava and Enginseer Linux. Third, we know that a powerful psychic exists somewhere. The identity of the psychic has yet to be confirmed," Doctor Strange said, pausing. "We need to focus our attentions on two things: discovering how to safely travel within the Warp, and discovering who this psychic is. Perhaps they may be of some help. Stark and Banner, I want you to begin research onto means of safely traveling within the Warp. Work with the Commissar and the Enginseer; their knowledge should be helpful."

Stark and the smaller tanned one exchanged a look before small smiles crept over their faces. It appeared as if they were delighted to work on this task. Wonderful. The Tech Priest would undoubtedly enjoy working on the project with them. She hoped that he would be resolute enough to resist the temptation to overshare in his enthusiasm.

"Romanoff and Loki," Strange continued, "I will require your skills to help find this psychic. Captain, Barton, and Thor: I want you to help where needed. Remember, we still have the entirety of the world to protect."

* * *

AN: *Crazy Train plays in the distance* This is where we go off the rails. I'll be updating a bit slower than I have – I think I'm going to aim for once every 2 weeks, and update on Mondays. I recently just acquired a pdf of the Imperial Munitorum Manual and the Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Priner, so hopefully some of my Warhammer-based lore will become more accurate. Besides that, I had done a big overhaul with Chapter 4 (the previous chapter). While key events remained the same, I added more detail into interactions and such so that I may be more in line with the spirit of my characters. As such, I've done a massive overhaul of this chapter (it went from 4k to just shy of 7k words) since the events of the previous have subtly changed how the rest of everything is playing out.

Emperor protect you, dear readers. I hope you're enjoying. Feel free to drop speculation, comments, complaints, or other concerns. I want to know what you think I'll do.

-Pappenheimer


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **? ? ?, The Warp, ? ? ?**

Peter followed behind Sam – Mirqurios? He didn't know at this point. Were demonic possessions even a thing? They probably were. What had he done? Half a million thoughts continued to race through his head, the guilt of survival at the forefront.

Sam had asked him to flat out kill him.

That was the thought the bubbled to the surface even as he followed the ghost of his friend. Friend? Since when did he start using the term? He hardly knew the other teen – they were barely acquaintances. Yet, he felt a duty to the other boy. An urge to help him and aid him. He didn't know what'd he'd been through to make him like that. He didn't know what he'd seen. Was that the truth of what it meant to be a hero? To help people no matter what they've done?

He examined the gun that Sam had thrust into his hands. It was lighter than he'd initially presumed. Its weight wasn't than any regular gun from earth. He ran a hand over its boxy design, tracing a finger over the winged skull on its sides, slowly tilting it to peer down the muzzle. Remembering the loud cracks and the flashes of light, the scientist in him was curious as to how it worked.

"Yᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʙᴇsᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ," Mirqurios' voice said, Sam turning to shoot a look back at him.

Immediately he lowered the gun. "Why?"

"Yᴏᴜ ɴᴇɢʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀғᴇᴛʏ ᴏɴ."

Peter felt himself flush in embarrassment. "Right. Wouldn't want to shoot my eye out, haha," he replied, laughing nervously. He turned the gun around in his hands looking for the safety.

"Mᴏʀᴇ ᴏʀ ʟᴇss, ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏɴsɪᴅᴇʀ ᴠᴀᴘᴏʀɪᴢɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀᴄᴇ sʜᴏᴏᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇ."

Sam drew close to him, pointing with a finger. "Tʜɪs sᴡɪᴛᴄʜ, ʜᴇʀᴇ. Iᴛ ᴀᴅᴊᴜsᴛs ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀsᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴄᴛs ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀғᴇᴛʏ. Tʜᴇɴ, ᴀʟʟ ᴏɴᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴅᴏ ɪs ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ sʜᴏᴏᴛ. Sɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ," Mirqurios said.

While the analogy was innocuous enough, Peter couldn't help but feel it ran deeper.

The aether swirled about the two of them as they continued their journey through the Great Unknown. Where they walked, they disturbed it. It became colored and scented by their emotions.

"Uh, so you mentioned that we were going to escape this place. Just, uh… how do you intend to do that?" Peter asked.

"Yᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀs. Kɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴀᴍ ʙʀɪɴɢɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ sᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴍ," he replied, waving a hand flippantly.

"You said you're taking us both. You're going to release your hold on Sam?"

"Iɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ʏᴇᴛ. Iᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ sᴀғᴇ."

""Not safe?"" Peter asked, "What do you mean? That… demon-thing is gone. The danger's past, isn't it?"

Mirqurios shook Sam's head. "Iɴ ᴛʜᴇ Wᴀʀᴘ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ɴᴏ sᴜᴄʜ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀs sᴀғᴇᴛʏ. Esᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟʟʏ ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴘsʏᴋᴇʀs ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ."

Peter frowned. "So, if there's nowhere safe in the Warp, that means your sanctum isn't here somewhere?"

Sam's head shook. "Nᴏ - I ᴀᴍ ʙᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜᴇʀᴇ. Wᴀʀᴘ ᴅᴇɴɪᴢᴇɴs ᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ _._ " Mirqurios plied Sam's mouth into a thoughtful expression.

Leave him alone? But hadn't he just said that nowhere was safe? It didn't make sense.

Peter tried to laugh off some of his confusion. "So, what? We reach your sanctum, and then what? Sam and I will still be stuck here. How do we get back?"

"I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴘɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀ sᴍᴀʟʟ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ. Wɪᴛʜ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, I sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪsᴄᴇʀɴ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ."

They fell back into silence. Peter shivered as he quickly observed the environment. He had come to realize that the place was not as dizzying as he'd initially perceived it. While his headache persisted, he found that it wasn't because of the sights or smells or other general sensory overload he'd first experienced. Rather, it seemed that it was a general environmental pressure. He'd remembered something similar happening when he was active as Spider-Man – while swinging from his webs, not only could he travel distances fast, but he could also change heights. The pressure was a little like that, though less felt on the eardrums. It was like being out of depth.

"Aɴ Oᴄᴇᴀɴ," Mirqurios uttered suddenly.

"What?"

"Wɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ Iᴍᴘᴇʀɪᴜᴍ, ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴘsʏᴋᴇʀs ᴘᴏᴇᴛɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ Wᴀʀᴘ "Tʜᴇ Gʀᴇᴀᴛ Oᴄᴇᴀɴ,"" Mirqurios supplied, gesturing at the changing expanse about them. "Iɴᴅᴇᴇᴅ, ɪᴛ ɪs ғɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪᴅᴇs, ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ sʜᴏᴀʟs ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ ᴅᴇᴘᴛʜs. Tʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴜʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ɪᴛs ᴅᴇᴘᴛʜs, sᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴇsɪʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴇʀʏ sᴏᴜʟ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴀʟsᴏ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ."

Peter looked at Sam. Beauty? In this place that was so far from home? He couldn't fathom it.

"Iᴛ's ᴀʟʟ ᴘᴇʀsᴘᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ. Pᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. Yᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇʟʏ. Aғᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟʟ, ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀs ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ."

Peter looked at him sharply. "How did you know that?"

"Yᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɴᴀɪᴠᴇᴛʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴀ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴄᴇ. Iɴ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴇᴘᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴡᴀs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀɴ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ʙᴏᴏᴋ," Mirquios said. Using Sam's hands, he signed them into Spider-Man's classic web-slinging form, using the same little flick of the wrist. "I sᴘᴏᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴛ - ᴀɴᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, I ᴍᴜsᴛ ʙᴇɢ ғᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴᴇss ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ɪɴᴛʀᴜsɪᴏɴ. Hᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ sʜɪᴇʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴍɪɴᴅ. Yᴏᴜ sᴀᴡ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ʜᴏᴡ I sᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ Sᴀᴍ's. Yᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴅᴇғᴇɴsᴇs. I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ."

"Says the thing that's currently possessing my friend."

Sam's features smiled. "A ʙɪᴛ ᴏғ sᴋᴇᴘᴛɪᴄɪsᴍ, ɴᴏᴡ? Is ᴛʜɪs ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ I'ᴍ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏᴍɪɴᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ? Yᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀʀʏ; I ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ sᴏʀᴛ."

"Right," Peter replied sarcastically.

"Lᴏᴏᴋ: I ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴ ᴇxᴇʀᴄɪsᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ. Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ ᴅᴇɴɪᴢᴇɴs? Tʜᴇsᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ "ᴠᴏɪᴅ ғɪsʜ?"" Mirqurios asked.

Peter looked around and noticed the little creatures flitting about through the air. Void fish. It was a suitable analogy. The way these little spirits moved did remind him of that betta fish he had the one time. Were these aggressive like that, too?

"I ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴇʀsᴜᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ."

"Make them leave? But… they're actually kinda cute."

"Aɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪs ᴡʜʏ ᴡᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɢᴏɴᴇ."

"…because they're cute?"

"Nᴏ. Tʜᴇʏ ғᴇᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs. Iɴ ᴛᴜʀɴ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴜs, ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴀʀɢᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴏsᴛɪʟᴇ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ."

"So… why can't you do this?"

"I ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴀᴍ. Sᴘᴇᴄɪғɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ, I'ᴠᴇ ᴍᴜᴛᴇᴅ Sᴀᴍ's ᴘsʏᴄʜɪᴄ ᴄᴏʀᴏɴᴀ, ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ sʜɪɴᴇs ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴅɪᴍ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴀ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴏғ ᴅᴀʀᴋ."

"So, what does that mean? Am I psychic, too?" Peter asked skeptically.

"Nᴏ. Aʟʟ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴘsʏᴄʜɪᴄ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ. I'ᴍ ʙᴜsʏ ᴘʟᴀᴄɪɴɢ Sᴀᴍ's ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴠᴇʀʙɪᴀʟ ʙᴜsʜᴇʟ. I ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴇxᴇʀᴄɪsᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏɴsᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ᴅᴀᴍᴘᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ."

"Oh."

A beat of silence passed.

"Aʟsᴏ, ɪᴛ's "Psʏᴋᴇʀ.""

Peter rolled his eyes. He looked at the little void fish.

 _Go away_ , he thought at them, glaring tiny daggers at the void fish. _I'm not here, go away._

 _Y_ _ᴏᴜ_ _ᴡᴏɴ_ _'_ _ᴛ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ᴀʙʟᴇ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴅᴏ_ _ɪᴛ_ _ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _ᴡᴀʏ_ _._

Peter looked over in surprise. "What?"

"Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ. Yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴏ ʜᴀʀᴅ - ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴏ ʙʟᴜɴᴛ."

"Okay, so what am I supposed to do? You didn't really give a lot of instruction."

"I ᴛʀᴜsᴛᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ sᴏʟᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ."

Peter grunted in annoyance. "Well, I guess your expectations for me were a little high. You're going to have to give me a little more help than "do this.""

"Bᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ? Lᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɪs ʜᴀʟғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ."

"Yeah, I'm trying to stay alive first and foremost. Any help in that department is appreciated."

"Aɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴇxᴇʀᴄɪsᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇʟᴘ."

"Not if I don't have any idea of what I'm supposed to be doing!"

"Dᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ I ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴀɪᴅ?"

"You didn't exactly say much on the topic."

"Tʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜɪɴᴛ."

"I didn't know I was going to be graded on my comprehension of every word that comes out of your mouth!"

"Wᴀᴛᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴏɴᴇ. Rᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴅɪsᴘᴇʀsɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ."

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but closed it when he saw that, yes, there were more little void fish swimming about his head.

He took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Okay. Tell me again. What do I need to do?"

"Eᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴs. Tʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇs ᴏғ ᴛʜɪs ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ғᴇᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ."

"Okay. Alright. Emotions. I just need… I just need…" Peter suddenly held up a finger. "I need to clear my head. Think of nothing! If I have no thoughts, there can be no emotions that follow!" Peter said, laughing in triumph. A couple void fish nibbled at his ear. "Right. Nothing."

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Avengers Tower, 2 November, Early Afternoon**

Linux was puttering through the halls of the "Avengers Tower," the servo-skull Grace Hopper floating by his head. The meeting from the previous day was enlightening. He enjoyed hearing these people strategize, and he was honestly excited to be living through a time of change. If these people succeeded, they would be at the forefront of Warp travel! True, the Machine Cult of Mars held many secrets that he had sworn oath upon oath to keep, but what if there were other ways? This was an opportunity for enlightenment!

He was supposed to meet with two people. He was familiar with Stark's face, the creator of the resident Abominable Intelligence. The second, Banner, was still a mystery to him. Would this one hold technological secrets for him to discover and build upon? The motors of his heart whirred as he thought in excitement of the project. Before, he'd be tasked with the sacred duty of maintaining the equipment and transport of the regiment. From lasguns to landraiders, he was intimately familiar with the cogs and circuits of many machines and their resident spirits. He knew the maintenance cants by heart.

He passed through a glass door that had opened automatically upon sensing his presence. He blessed the resident spirit of the door and prayed that the Omnissiah guard it against the AI.

Entering the workroom proper, he noticed there were robotic arms that seemed to have sprouted from the floor and ceiling. While those were motionless now, he could sense the machine spirits dwelling within them, waiting for the proper codes so they could spring into action and create.

Shortly, his optics discerned the two seated at a workbench, a holograph opened before them. Both had expressions of deep thought on their faces, at least before Stark turned his head.

"Nice of you to join us, Tux," Stark said, humor in his voice. Linux's processors churned as he tried to divine the meaning of the title he'd just been given. He could not find one.

"Come on," Stark said, waving to an open seat at the table. "Perhaps your mind'll help us figure out what we need to do."

Linux approached the workbench, his optics swiftly analyzing what was displayed on the holo. There wasn't much.

"Yeah, it sucks. Bruce 'n I've been at this all morning, but there're too many unknowns." Stark said, a small frown on his face.

"You had said earlier that this "Warp" exists in another dimension. What do you think if we were able to craft some sort of gate?" Banner proposed.

Stark waggled his finger. "That could be good. How would we power it? How would we coordinate it to go where we need to?"

Banner sat in silence for a moment, thinking. Linux held his tongue. Could he speak of the technology of the Imperium? These were humans, after all. He knew of the Gellar fields, of the general theory of how they worked, but he did not know precisely how to construct one. Even if he knew, the technology of the Mechanicum was still sacred. Secrets of the machines must never fall into the minds of the uninitiated. It would be a grave offense if such things fell into the wrong minds because of his folly. No. He would keep it to himself for now. Still, the idea of another way to breach the Warp intrigued him. Perhaps he could document whatever they crafted and turn it to the Mechanicum when he returned. The other Magos' would be intrigued. And perhaps it would better the Imperium, too.

Banner spoke again. "What if… what if we were to ask Loki for advice? Didn't Thor say he knows secret paths around the universe?"

"Yeah, but would you really trust anything Reindeer Games says?" Stark retorted.

"We could ask, and maybe verify with Doctor Strange?" Banner suggested again. "Unless, you have any ideas?" Banner asked, looking at the tech priest.

"You did say you and the commissar had to have passed through to get here," Stark commented.

"Not of our own will," Linux replied, giving his head a quick shake. "Chaos cultists forcibly breached the Warp. Many unknowns were present in our passage."

"But," began Banner, "don't you think that confirms that magic can be used as a catalyst? Loki was able to use the Tesseract to power other mystical objects, including that breach that the Chitauri used in their invasion. Do you think that we could make our own? Or, at least something similar to?"

"Query: what is the Tesseract?" Linux asked.

"It's some stone that was found. Thor tells us the Asgardians used to be guarding it, but then his brother stole it. Nearly brought about the end of the world, but," Stark shot a conspiratory glance at Banner before shrugging, "we stopped it."

Linux nodded, curious now as to how they would go about creating miniature "magical" energy cores. Would they be working with particles of the likes that powered the Gellar fields? Or would it be different? They mentioned magic, but magic was not something that existed. There were people like psykers who could control things using the Warp, but he wouldn't consider that magic. Still, they were talking about creating their own type of power core or generator. Some powerful power source. But wait – the psykers.

"Could the Strange one be used to power the core?" Linux asked. From what he understood, it was possible that Strange was a type of psyker.

Stark frowned as he pondered the thought, giving his chin a quick stroke. "Hmm… I don't see why we couldn't ask him. Bruce," he said, looking at Banner, "doesn't he have some ring or whatever that opens magical portals?"

"He calls it a sling-ring, but, yeah, he makes portals," Bruce replied.

"If we construct a frame, do you think he could be the catalyst to control it?" Stark asked, his eyes alight in excitement.

Stark looked back to Linux, a queer expression on his face.

"Hey, JARVIS," Stark said, speaking to the air without taking his gaze away from the tech priest. Linux's processors were running hard as he tried to interpret what Stark was planning.

"Yes, sir?" the AI replied.

"Contact Doctor Strange. Tell him to meet me here. I have a plan."

 **? ? ?, The Warp, ? ? ?**

Peter concentrated on thinking of nothing. It was a lot harder than he thought. There were so many things that had him wound tight: being lost, not knowing if Sam was going to be alright, whether he could trust Mirqurios (sure, he was giving the spirit the benefit of the doubt, but he could still be led into a trap), how Ned and Michelle were coping back home, and if Mr. Stark or any of the Avengers were looking for them, just to name a few things.

At first, every thought that crossed his mind frustrated him. How could he think of nothing if he kept thinking? But then, slowly, he would entertain the thought and let it pass. Another passing thought had him remember that Doctor Strange had tried to get Mr. Stark and himself to meditate in a similar way and, if he actually thought about it, for similar reasons. But he let it go.

"Wᴇʟʟ ᴅᴏɴᴇ."

Peter looked to Mirqurios' voice sharply. He noticed they were no longer in the exposed wilds of the deep Warp. Instead, they were in a cozy alabaster-walled room. He hadn't even noticed that they'd crossed a threshold. Did they cross a threshold?

As he continued looking, he noticed the little void fish were also gone.

"Ah!" another voice exclaimed, gasping for air.

Peter's head snapped to its direction. Sam. And on his shoulder was Mirqurios, the red raven.

"Sam! Are you alright!" Peter asked.

 _I_ _ᴡᴏɴ_ _'_ _ᴛ_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ɪᴛ_ _s_ _ᴀɪᴅ_ _ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _I_ _ᴅᴏɴ_ _'_ _ᴛ_ _ᴋᴇᴇᴘ_ _ᴍʏ_ _ᴘʀᴏᴍɪ_ _s_ _ᴇ_ _s_ , said Mirqurious.

Sam convulsed briefly before regaining mastery of himself.

"I'm… I'm my own…?" Sam asked shakily.

Peter was already by the boy's side, rubbing his back in a soothing manner.

"Yeah, at least I think. I don't know how this magic psychic stuff works, but I think that's what Mirq said."

 _I_ _ᴀᴍ_ _ʜᴇʀᴇ_ _,_ _ɴᴏᴛ_ _ɪɴ_ _ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ_ _. I s_ _ᴀɪᴅ_ _I_ _ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ_ _,_ _ᴀɴᴅ_ _I_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ , said Mirqurios

Sam shuddered again and his face twisted into a grimace.

Peter shot the bird a concerned look. "What's happening now?"

 _H_ _ᴇ_ _'s_ _ᴊᴜ_ _s_ _ᴛ_ _ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ_ _ᴜ_ _s_ _ᴇᴅ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ_ _ᴏᴠᴇʀ_ _ʜɪ_ _s_ ғ _ᴀᴄᴜʟᴛɪᴇ_ _s_ _ᴀɢᴀɪɴ_ _. N_ _ᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _s_ _ʜᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _s_ _ᴇʟ_ ғ _ᴡɪᴛʜ_.

"Are you sure? 'Cause he looks pretty-"

"I'm- uhn- I'm alright," Sam interjected, grunting.

Peter gave the other boy a pointed look.

 _H_ _ᴇ_ _'_ _ʟʟ_ _ʙᴇ_ ғ _ɪɴᴇ_ _-_ _ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ_ _,_ _ʜᴇʀᴇ_ _. T_ _ᴀᴋᴇ_ _ᴛʜɪ_ _s_ _ʙᴜᴄᴋᴇᴛ_ , Mirqurious said. When Peter looked, there was bucket that he was quite sure hadn't been there previously.

Sam made a dry gagging sound.

Peter thrust the bucket under Sam's mouth, panicked.

Sam heaved the nothing that was in stomach into the bucket.

"Fine! You said he would be fine!" Peter shouted at the bird.

 _A_ _ɴᴅ_ _ʜᴇ_ _ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ʙᴇ_ _! T_ _ʜɪ_ _s_ _ɪ_ _s_ _ᴀʟʟ_ _ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ_ _! P_ _ᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ_ _ᴅᴏɴ_ _'_ _ᴛ_ _ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟʟʏ_ _ʀᴇ_ _s_ _ᴘᴏɴᴅ_ _ᴀ_ _s_ _ᴡᴇʟʟ_ _ᴀ_ _s_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴀɴᴅ_ _S_ _ᴀᴍ_ _ᴀʀᴇ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ_ _s_ _ᴏ_ ғ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _W_ _ᴀʀᴘ_ _!_

"You're saying that this," Peter waved his free hand to the form of Sam, doubled over, "is normal?"

 _Y_ _ᴇ_ _s_.

"It's… it's fine. Really," Sam said, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. "It feels like," he wrinkled his nose, "a really bad Warp jump."

 _T_ _ʜᴀᴛ_ _'s_ _ᴘᴜᴛᴛɪɴɢ_ _ɪᴛ_ _ᴍɪʟᴅʟʏ._

"Why? What's a Warp-jump? What are those like?"

"It's how we move quickly through space. We have a special engine on our ships that can tear open the Warp and enable us to pass safely through."

The bird cackled.

 _W_ _ᴀʀᴘ_ _ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟ_ _ɪ_ _s_ _ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ_ _s_ _ᴀ_ _ғ_ _ᴇ_.

Sam made a face.

"Wait, you travel through this place? You can go to, like, other planets?" asked Peter.

Sam blinked. "Of course. There are over a million planets within the Imperium to protect. It's basic logistics."

 _B_ _ᴜᴛ_ _ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ_ _,_ _ᴛʜᴇʏ_ _ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ᴘᴀ_ _ss_ _ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ_ _ᴛʜɪ_ _s_ _ᴜ_ _s_ _ɪɴɢ_ _ᴛᴇᴄʜɴᴏʟᴏɢʏ_ _ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ_ _ᴛʜᴇᴍ_ _ғ_ _ʀᴏᴍ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀɪᴛʏ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀ_ _s_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _W_ _ᴀʀᴘ_ _. R_ _ɪɢʜᴛ_ _ɴᴏᴡ_ _,_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ʙᴏᴛʜ_ _ᴀʀᴇ_ _ɪɴ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ɪᴛ_ _._

"So, you're saying that we can't use what he normally uses?" Peter asked.

 _Y_ _ᴇ_ _s._

"Okay, but then if its regularly traveled, couldn't we flag down a passing ship or something? Make some big fires like people do when stranded on deserted islands?"

Sam shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. Each ship has a carefully planned path. If they ever deviate… they would not risk the lives of an entire ship's crew for a single guardsman and civilian. Not without meaning."

"So, what do we do? How do we "breach the Warp" to get back home?"

"If I knew, I would already be back with my regiment," said Sam.

Peter look back to the bird. "Do you have any ideas?"

 _I_ _ᴅᴏ_ _. B_ _ᴜᴛ_ _ᴛʜᴇʏ_ _ᴄᴏᴍᴇ_ _ᴀᴛ_ _ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ_ _ᴄᴏ_ _s_ _ᴛ_ _._

Peter cast a nervous look to Sam. "Great cost to whom? Us or you?"

 _A_ _ʟʟ_ _ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ_ _._

"Do we even want to know, then?" asked Peter.

"No. Consorting with Warp creatures will only put your soul in danger," Sam said.

 _A_ _ɴᴅ_ _ʏᴇᴛ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _'_ _ᴠᴇ_ _ʙᴇᴇɴ_ _ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ_ _ʀᴇᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴠᴇ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ᴍʏ_ _ʜᴏ_ _s_ _ᴘɪᴛᴀʟɪᴛʏ_ _._

"Peter, for my sake and for yours, we can find another way out. Whatever you do, don't trust him," Sam said, a pleading look in his eyes.

It wasn't fair what he had done earlier, making that deal with Mirqurios. And yet, they were both still alive and together. Mirqurios hadn't done anything truly malicious in that regard.

 _I_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ʙᴏᴛʜ_ _. Y_ _ᴏᴜʀ_ _ᴏᴡɴ_ _ɪɢɴᴏʀᴀɴᴄᴇ_ _ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴇɴᴅ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _._

Peter looked from Sam back to the bird.

"What do you have planned?" Peter asked somberly.

"Peter! You can't!"

"I need to know all our options!" Peter retorted.

"This is not an option! We'll find a way out, just not like this!"

 _I_ _ᴋɴᴏᴡ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ᴀ_ _ʀɪᴛᴜᴀʟ_ _. I_ _ᴛ_ _ʀᴇ_ _ǫ_ _ᴜɪʀᴇ_ _s s_ _ᴀᴄʀɪ_ _ғ_ _ɪᴄᴇ_ _\- s_ _ᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ғ_ _ᴏʀᴍ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ʙᴏɴᴅ_ _ᴡɪᴛʜ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _ʀᴇᴀʟsᴘᴀᴄᴇ_ _._

"The sacrifice – what do you mean by "something of you?""

 _I_ _ᴍᴇᴀɴ_ _ᴊᴜ_ _s_ _ᴛ_ _ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _. S_ _ᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _s_ _ᴇʟ_ _ғ. T_ _ʜɪɴɢ_ _s_ _ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ_ _ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _s_ _ᴇʟ_ _ғ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ᴛᴇɴ_ _ᴀᴄᴛ_ _ᴀ_ _s s_ _ᴛʀᴏɴɢᴇʀ_ _ᴀɴᴄʜᴏʀ_ _s._ _T_ _ʜᴇ_ _s_ _ᴇ_ _ᴄᴀɴ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ᴍᴀᴛᴇʀɪᴀʟ_ _ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ_ _s_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ʜɪɢʜ_ _s_ _ᴇɴᴛɪᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ_ _ᴠᴀʟᴜᴇ_ _,_ _ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇ_ _s,_ _ᴀ_ _ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ ʏᴏᴜ _..._

Peter thought on the requirements. What could he give up? He didn't have much on him. He was wearing his first Spider-man outfit. He still felt a twinge of embarrassment at his design: hoodie and sweatpants, the mask crudely stitched together. A memory? There were so many. Uncle Ben and Aunt May, his parents, Ned, Michelle, his stunts as Spider-man. Would he part with one? Could he part with one? All those factored in to who he was today. They built upon each other. Lessons were learned, people were loved – no, he could not give up a memory. He would not give up a memory.

He looked at Sam. The other boy was shaking his head. He knew now that Sam would never compromise. The world Sam had come from – what was it like that it set the boy's resolve as such? He looked back at Mirqurios.

"Do we both need to give something? Or can you do it with just something from one of us?" Peter asked. It was worth a shot. Wasn't that what it meant to be a hero? To sacrifice yourself so others wouldn't have to?

Mirqurios cocked his head before nodding. _I_ _ᴄᴀɴ_ _ᴍᴀᴋᴇ_ _ɪᴛ_ _ᴡᴏʀᴋ_ _. I_ _ᴛ_ _ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅɪ_ ғғ _ɪᴄᴜʟᴛ_ _,_ _ʙᴜᴛ_ _ɪᴛ_ _ᴄᴀɴ_ _s_ _ᴛɪʟʟ_ _ᴡᴏʀᴋ_ _._

"Peter," Sam said, his voice tense, "Please reconsider. You don't need to do this. We will find a way to survive, and we can find our own way out. Just because he's offering the quickest way out doesn't mean we will be free. Please, Peter. For the sake of your life, I beg you reconsider."

He let the words enter him, and he began to question. What was he doing? Was this really their best way out? He asked because he wanted to know what was at stake. Memories – precious parts of their being. Would he sacrifice part of himself to be free – to go home? If he agreed with Sam, how would they get home? Mirqurios knew a way out. They were stumbling blind. Mirqurios gave them sanctuary. They had been dragged into the belly of the beast.

What would he do to survive?

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Avengers Tower, 2 November, Mid Afternoon**

Doctor Strange entered the glass doors of the workshop, the Cloak swirling behind him playfully. He had a stern expression on his face. He'd been in the middle of attempting to find the psychic presence. Natasha had been combing the databases, searching for people with unusual histories, but there were far more of them than initially anticipated. At least, more than the Doctor had initially anticipated. Natasha was grumbling the entire time about how she'd have more luck find the proverbial needle in a stack of hay.

Loki, similarly, had said he would look in his own way and had taken off. He should've seen that coming. Still, he knew the Jotunn's mind enough now to be able to connect with him psychically. With the psychic connection, it'd be easy to use the sling-ring and drag his body back to work if need be.

But, now he was in Stark's workshop. He'd been summoned by the billionaire mechanic himself for what he could only hope was something pertaining to getting them into and out of the Warp safely.

"Okay, I'm listening," Strange said, splaying his hands.

"So, we figured you might be the key to our puzzle," Bruce suggested.

"Since you're all magic and everything, we figured you'd probably have a way to get into the Warp, like with the ring-sling," said Stark.

"Sling-ring," corrected Strange.

"That's what I said," replied Stark. "We can use a catalyst like your magic and direct it into a bigger version of the ring-sling. It'll make something like a giant portal to the Warp."

Doctor Strange twisted his mouth. "It's a possibility."

"Do you think you could use Tux's mind here to help you get a fix?" Stark suggested, gesturing to Linux.

Doctor Strange looked at Stark for a moment, confused, before realizing he meant the tech priest. Why the man insisted on coming up with all these ridiculous nicknames for everyone, he would never know.

"I could. It would help me learn the layout of that dimension…" Doctor Strange mused, turning to the red robe.

"May I?" Strange asked, gesturing for permission to perform a psychic probe.

"How do you intend to access this one's mind?" Linux responded.

"I am going to delve into your memories – I apologize, it is a very intimate act, I will be inside your -"

"No," replied Linux.

"No? Why not? Strange needs those memories," Stark said agitatedly.

"Perhaps if Linux doesn't, we could always ask Commissar Poltava," Banner supplied quietly.

"Unnecessary. Both suggestions. There is another way."

"Really? Do tell," said Strange.

"Is there a cogitator available?"

Strange cast a glance to the two scientists. Cogitator?

"Hold up – uh," Stark said, ducking behind a counter. There was some noise as he rummaged through whatever he had stored before Strange heard the quick tapping of fingers typing on keys. "Here," Stark said, presenting a laptop halfway through its bootup sequence.

Linux bent at the waist, bringing his face close to the computer. Strange briefly wondered what Linux was doing. Reverently, Linux accepted the laptop from Stark and set it on a counter. An extra appendage produced a case with some vials filled with strange liquids, various tools, and a candle. Linux interlocked his human hands into a form that Strange recognized as one of prayer.

"Well, that explains why he's call priest," Strange muttered quietly to himself.

Another digit extended itself from an unseen part of Linux's arm, snaking its way toward the laptop. Strange briefly wondered what it was before it made contact with the computer, plugging itself into one of the ports.

Suddenly, the laptop's screen began changing. Faster than the eye could perceive did it change from one to another.

"Is… is this supposed to happen?" Doctor Strange asked.

"Linux!" Stark shouted.

The screens paused. From what he could see, it was some program. He wasn't familiar with its layout. Amid the numbers of the body of the document, the lone header was in something more letter-like, and yet he could not understand the language. Right – they were aliens of a sort. He hadn't exactly expected that to be true, especially with how vehemently they counter-argued those facts, but evidence was looking them in the face.

"Is there a problem?"

"What are you doing?" Stark asked.

"Sanctifying this cogitator for the preparation of the holy program that will store the memory which you seek," Linux said, resuming his task.

"I have removed my program from the laptop, sir," JARVIS replied from the overhead. "Linux has installed a variety of robust antivirus and computer security programs – ones stronger than yesterday. It is possible that he has spent the time upgrading and adjusting his software."

"Alright. He hasn't sent anything against you yet?"

"No, sir. We can to an agreement."

"Oh? You'll have to tell me more about it later."

"Yes, sir," JARVIS affirmed.

Strange focus more closely on the strange being that was Linux. He was something of a mystery yet. He and the other two had managed to evade the Avengers for over a month. Then again, it sounded as if they had done nothing wrong. They couldn't evade something that was never looking for them in the first place.

Linux made some chirrup noises as he opened one of the vials. Strange could smell nothing peculiar of the item. Linux dipped an organic finger into the vial. The translucent viscous fluid glistened as the tech priest applied it sacramentally to the computer. Anointed with holy oil?

He'd been so keen on the oil he'd nearly missed the other appendage. It seemed to just appear from under the red robes, the tip glowing. Dutifully, Linux applied the appendage to the chassis of the laptop, and acrid smoke swirled into the air.

"Hey, what -" Stark barely had time to shout before the appendage had disappeared back into the obscuring folds of the robes. The chassis of the laptop bore an ugly image. A strange skull, half of it modified with wires and other contraptions, ensconced within the halo of a gear. An insignia of some sort.

"It will be but a few more moments. The cogitator has been sanctified," Linux answered the unasked question.

Strange shot a look to Stark and Banner.

"So… this is easier than me just popping in and grabbing the memories?" asked Strange.

"Well, at least this way we'll all be able to see the memories. We won't just have to take your words for it," replied Stark.

"But have you thought of how he has the capability to choose to upload his memories?" asked Banner. "You say you don't want to just take Strange's word for it, but isn't it stranger that he's been so helpful? Never mind the morals and ethics of being able to upload your memory – how does someone even do that in the first place," he muttered, "but if he also has the ability to do that, isn't it possible he can edit them to show us what we want to see?"

"Yeah, but then he loses out, too. He's got his kid Sam stuck in the Warp with our Spidey," Stark rebutted.

"It is finished," Linux remarked, speaking over their conspiring.

"Oh, good," Strange replied, being the first to move closer to the laptop screen. "So, what are we watching?"

"These are the last moments of engagement before arrival on this Ancient Holy Terra."

"Okay, let's play," said Stark.

The memory was surreal. As Linux had described, it was a battle, but with men, weapons, and armaments that these men of Earth had never seen. Warmachines rumbled over the torn ground. Flashes of light pierced the fog of war. From Linux's sight, they found the light to come from both sides – a type of laser weaponry. They heard orders shouted in languages unfamiliar to them, but war cries of affirmation understood by all. Then they saw the cultists.

The fabric of reality was torn asunder by their power. Lightning spewed from their hands and mouths as they grappled with the wrongness of the unreality of the Warp. Uniformed men and women were turned inside-out with a glance, and yet these brave souls did not falter, raising their guns and continuing their assault. They bore a look of grim determination. They knew their fate. The soil exploded beneath them, and Linux's vision tumbled as they were launched into the air by a powerful blast. They landed with a heavy, wet thud. As Linux picked himself up, readying his own arms, he pointed out one of the guardsmen who briefly entered his field of vision.

"Guardsman Trembley," Linux said, gesturing at the young soldier.

It was but for a moment, and the battle aged him, but Doctor Strange could still pick out the youthfulness in the boy's features.

Other guardsmen and skitarii troops surged around them, and Commissar Poltava came into Linux's vision. She was a fury, shouting again in that foreign tongue and holding a glowing sword extended. Suddenly, a look of horror crossed her face. As she shouted another command, Trembley and Linux scrambled to race forward through the mud, but their efforts were too little, too late. Linux's vision became distorted, colors of blues, purples, reds, and greens streaking across the display before blacking out. After a moment, the system appeared to reboot. The first thing the optics showed was the asphalt and garbage of some alley in New York.

"The Warp affected anomalies within the systems. A forced reboot preserved the core cogitator," Linux remarked.

"This doesn't help us at all," Stark said, shaking his head. "Didn't we need the memory to figure out how to get to the Warp? This didn't show any of it."

Doctor Strange put a hand on his goatee, stroking it pensively.

"Is there any chance we can try to restore the lost memory?" Banner asked.

Linux shook his head. "Part of the memory core was corrupted. Protocols were developed to contain the warped memory. Accessing the warped memory is ill-advised."

"But that's what we need," Stark said. "You wasted our time with this other memory. What we need is that one of the Warp."

"No. It cannot be accessed."

"Is there a reason why you cannot share this memory with us? A reason that makes accessing the corrupted portion dangerous?" Strange asked.

"The memory damaged the core. Accessing the memory places the rest of the core at risk," Linux replied.

Doctor Strange cast a glance to Stark and Banner. "Do you think you could let me look? Allow me to peer in without disturbing your protective measures?"

Again, Linux shook his head. "No. Dangerous for you."

"What makes it dangerous?"

"It is a memory of the Immaterium – a place that exists outside the Materium. Knowledge of that place corrupts."

"I have worked and travelled within other dimensions and planes of being before. I have some manner of experience with this, I think," Doctor Strange said with some measure of confidence.

"The Warp is not like the Materium. Exposure to the raw Immaterium is often… fatal to the human psyche."

"And that's why you believe it to be dangerous?" asked Strange.

"Not believe. Know."

"So, what does that mean for Parker and Trembley?" asked Banner. "They were taken bodily into the Warp. Is there any way for us to know if they're okay?"

"Chaos tends to prey on those with minds of weak fortitude. Guardsman Trembley is a Cadian. It is unlikely his will shall falter. Peter Parker, though… his mind has not had the training to reject the tricks of the Warp daemons. His mind may not be intact if they are ever found. In any event, Guardsman Trembley, if able, will seek to administer a coup de grâce to them both. He will prevent the Ruinous Powers from gaining their strength," Linux said.

"The Ruinous Powers? What's that?" asked Stark. Strange could hear the worry in his voice.

"The Chaos Gods. In the memory you witnessed one skirmish against their servants. Their favored ones are corrupted into daemons, sowers of chaos and reapers of death," said Linux.

"And the ruinous powers, you believe that they would corrupt me," reasoned Strange.

"Yes."

"Strange, two kids are in there. One of our own is stuck in there," Stark urged.

"I know," the Doctor replied.

"For humanity's safety, examining the memory is not advised," Linux reminded.

"I know," Strange answered.

"We need to bring them back," said Stark.

"It is not safe."

"Being a hero is the worst guarantee for safety," Stark shot back at the tech priest. "Our lives are forfeit for the safety of the innocents."

"Guardsman Trembley knows his duty."

"They are _children_! Children shouldn't be expected to die in the wars of others!"

"All in the Imperium know their duty and understand the necessity of the sacrifice."

"You would let a child die?"

"That is what this organic form demands of us all."

"We will find a way," said Strange suddenly. "Enginseer, let me see the memory."

"It will corrupt you."

"You said yourself that death comes to us all. Whether it comes sooner or later is not for me to decide. I decide whether I want to let those two go knowing I could have done more to save them."

"You will doom this Terra."

"It was doomed the moment you three appeared," Strange said. "Now, let me look."

* * *

AN: Sorry for the slowness in posting. While I had intended to slow down my pace a little, real life got real busy, and I kept getting interrupted every time I tried to write. School was fine (got an A on the paper and an A in the course), though I did spend a good 5 days calling registrar to have them create the only course I have left to take before my final project. My sister came back from college, so we spent some time together. I bought Frostpunk on sale and had so many feelings (guess who didn't cross the line? This one!), and then I also got Mechanicus and Magos Jeremiah has made himself near and dear to my heart. Then I heard my Great Uncle had a stroke and was in the hospital, and now he had his Good Death. Here on out, I'm going to try to aim for maybe a post a month.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, Feliz Navidad, Merry Saturnalia, Joyous Chanukah, and a Happy Festivus for the Rest of Us!

Emperor Protects,

Pappenheimer

+++ Also, as I was trying to upload this, formatting was being difficult. Let me know if some words are messed up. I tried to make sure they were fixed, but I may have missed one or two. +++


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **? ? ?, The Warp, ? ? ?**

The choice was his.

Accept help, or find another way.

Peter was a hero. Heroes made sacrifices. But to give up his memories of his friends and parents? Mirqurios seemed rather keen about this method. Confident in his abilities, assuring that the sacrifice would be worth it. Yet, Peter had his own doubts.

Peter remembered what he'd just done to Sam. Out of trust, whether it was misplaced or not, he'd essentially violated the other boy, allowing Mirqurios to basically possess the other boy. The bird assured him it was entirely necessary, but the look of horror from his betrayal shook Peter. Had he made the right call there? Deep down, his gut twisted and turned. He made the call. Sure, Sam was still alive. But what had he done to make it so?

Peter shook his head. "We'll look for another way," he answered, finally.

"Thank you," Sam said, a tone of relief in the other boy's voice. "You don't know how… relieved I am to hear you say that."

 _Wᴇʟʟ_ _, ʏᴏᴜ_ _'ᴠᴇ_ _ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ_ _ᴄʜᴏ_ _sᴇɴ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴍᴀᴋᴇ_ _ʟɪ_ _ғᴇ_ _ᴍᴏʀᴇ_ _ᴅɪ_ _ғғɪᴄᴜʟᴛ_ , Mirqurios remarked.

Peter looked at the raven. "Do you have any other ideas?" he asked. While Mirqurios had suggested the first idea, which was also likely the easiest, perhaps he also knew of some other way.

 _Iɴ_ _ᴛɪᴍᴇ_ _, ᴡᴇ_ _'ʟʟ_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ᴏᴜʀ_ _ᴡᴀʏ_ _._

"So, you have a way and you're just not sharing with us?" Peter asked.

 _Yᴏᴜ_ _'ʀᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴏɴᴇ_ _s ᴡʜᴏ_ _ᴅᴇᴄʟɪɴᴇᴅ_ _ᴍʏ_ _ғɪʀ_ _sᴛ_ _ᴏ_ _ғғᴇʀ_ _._

Peter waved his hand. "Okay, so Sam, we're gonna do this your way. What's your plan?"

Sam made a face as he pulled a small, black book from a pocket inside his tunic. He flipped through it, skimming through the pages, the Gothic words mouthed under his breath.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Absolutely nothing," he repeated more bitterly.

"What?" Peter asked.

"There's nothing in my Primer!"

 _Tʜᴀᴛ_ _'s ɴᴏᴛ_ _sᴜʀᴘʀɪ_ _sɪɴɢ_ _. Eᴠᴇɴ_ _I ᴋɴᴏᴡ_ _ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ_ _'s ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ_ _ɪɴ_ _ᴛʜᴏ_ _sᴇ_ _ᴘʀɪᴍᴇʀ_ _s ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ_ _ɴᴏᴛᴇ_ _._

"It speaks of the perils of Warp-travel, but it's all traditional, all ship-based, all _normal situations_. Nothing of it applies to what we're dealing with: exposed entirely to the Warp," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Well, look at the positives. We survived for," Peter looked at his wrist, "Huh. That's weird. My watch stopped."

 _Yᴏᴜ_ _sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ᴋɴᴏᴡ_ _ʙʏ_ _ɴᴏᴡ_ _ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _Wᴀʀᴘ_ _ʜᴀ_ _s ɴᴏ_ _ʙᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ_ _s ᴏɴ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴛɪᴍᴇ_ _ᴏʀ_ _sᴘᴀᴄᴇ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ ᴛʜᴇ_ _Mᴀᴛᴇʀɪᴜᴍ_ _._

Peter looked confused. "Wait. What's that mean?"

 _Tʜᴇʀᴇ_ _ɪ_ _s ɴᴏ_ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ _ᴏʀ_ ᴡʜᴇɴ _ʜᴇʀᴇ_ _. Yᴏᴜʀ_ _ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ_ _ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ_ _'ᴛ_ _ʜᴇʟᴘ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴇᴠᴇɴ_ _ɪ_ _ғ ɪᴛ_ _ᴅɪᴅ_ _ᴡᴏʀᴋ_ _._

"Okay. What now?" Peter asked.

"We need to find a way to establish a bridge with Realspace," Sam replied.

 _Yᴇ_ _s. Tʜᴀᴛ_ _ɪ_ _s ᴡʜᴀᴛ_ _I ᴡᴀ_ _s ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ_ _ᴡɪᴛʜ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _. I ɴᴇᴇᴅ_ _ᴀ_ _ғᴏᴄᴜ_ _s ᴛᴏ_ _ᴇ_ _sᴛᴀʙʟɪ_ _sʜ_ _ᴀ_ _sᴀ_ _ғᴇ_ _ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ_ _ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _Wᴀʀᴘ_ _._

Sam shook his head. "We can do this another way. A way that doesn't involve you." He looked pointedly at Mirqurios. "You said I'm a psyker? Well, I'm going to figure out how to psyk."

Mirqurios hopped back, a flurry of red feathers in his surprise. _Y_ _ᴏᴜ_ _? Yᴏᴜ_ _ᴛʜɪɴᴋ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ_ _ɪ_ _s ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ_ _?_ he asked, his thoughts tinged with scorn.

"No. I know it's not enough. But, perhaps it will be a beacon in the dark for another, maybe even the Emperor."

 _Yᴇ_ _s, ᴀɴᴅ_ _ᴀ_ _ʙʀɪʟʟɪᴀɴᴛ_ _ғʟᴀʀᴇ_ _ғᴏʀ_ _ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ_ _ᴍᴏɴ_ _sᴛᴇʀ_ _ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _I'ᴠᴇ_ _ʙᴇᴇɴ_ _ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ_ _sᴏ_ _ʜᴀʀᴅ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴋᴇᴇᴘ_ _ᴀᴡᴀʏ_ _ғʀᴏᴍ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _. I ᴡᴏɴ_ _'ᴛ_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴅᴇ_ _sᴛʀᴏʏɪɴɢ_ _ᴍʏ_ _ᴡᴀʀᴅ_ _s ᴡɪᴛʜ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _ғᴏᴏʟʜᴀʀᴅʏ_ _, ʜᴀʟ_ _ғ-ʙᴀᴋᴇᴅ_ _ᴘʟᴀɴ_ _._

"Doctor Strange," Peter announced suddenly.

"Who?" _W_ _ʜᴏ_ _?_ Mirqurios and Sam asked in tandem.

"He's another superhero. He guards Earth from threats from other dimensions. I know where he lives – we might be able to direct Sam's power there – try to get his attention," Peter said quickly, the idea flowing from his mind.

Sam and the bird looked at Peter quizzically for a moment.

"What? Is the idea no good?" asked Peter.

"No, it's not that. You used a word. Superhero. I am unfamiliar with it," said Sam.

"Oh, well, it's uh, someone who has powers that they use for good – to help other people."

"Help other people? Like Ciaphas Cain: Hero of the Imperium?" asked Sam.

 _Uɴʟᴇ_ _ss Cᴀɪɴ_ _ᴡᴀ_ _s ᴀ_ _ᴘ_ _sʏᴋᴇʀ_ _, I ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ_ _ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _'s ᴡʜᴀᴛ_ _Pᴇᴛᴇʀ_ _ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ_ _ᴡʜᴇɴ_ _ʜᴇ_ _sᴀɪᴅ_ _"ʜᴇʟᴘ_ _s ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ_ _ᴡɪᴛʜ_ _ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ_ _s,"_ Mirqurios replied.

"Uh, no. I don't think like Ciaphas Cain."

"Hero of the Imperium!" added Sam.

"Yeah, I don't even know who that is," Peter replied, shaking his head, "But you met me, and I'm kinda considered one of those superheroes," Peter said, puffing up his chest with some sense of pride.

"You did introduce yourself as the Man of Spiders," Sam recounted.

"No – it's Spider-Man. It's my secret identity."

"Why would you need that?"

 _"Wʜʏ_ _sᴘɪᴅᴇʀ_ _s," ɪ_ _s ᴍᴏʀᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ǫᴜᴇ_ _sᴛɪᴏɴ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ᴀ_ _sᴋɪɴɢ_ _._

"I- ugh," Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was… bit by some weird spider in a laboratory. I have, I don't know, like, super-strength, really good vision, and I can climb walls, like, with Van der Waals forces like… a spider," he finished, shrugging his shoulders.

"So you're – you're a mutant?" Sam asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he took a small step back.

"I guess I am," Peter said, shrugging it off. He was a little disappointed that they were unfamiliar with the necessity of the dual-lives and the importance of keeping them separate. "I've never really thought about it that way. Why? Is that a bad thing?"

"Beware the alien, the mutant, the heretic," Sam recited.

 _Rᴇᴀʟʟʏ_?

"What?" Peter asked, looking between the guardsman and the bird. "What does it mean? That doesn't sound good. Mirq? Sam? What does it mean?"

Iᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴs ʜᴇ's ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪs ғᴀɪᴛʜ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ᴜɢʟʏ ᴛʀᴜᴛʜ.

"What?"

Sam looked at Peter with suspicion. "In the Imperium, we are taught to hate that which defies and corrupts the inherent purity of the human form."

"Hey, well, I'm still human. It was just a spider bite," Peter replied.

"No, it's beyond that. It's the fact that you were changed. You've been forever corrupted by the Warp."

"But… it was only a spider bite. The scientists in the lab were working on some project. I really don't think there was anything supernatural or corrupting about it. Plus, I use my powers for good!"

"That's not for us to decide. Something changed you, corrupted your very core. How do I know I can trust you? That all of this wasn't some ruse?

"Dude. We were just fighting at each other's backs. We're both stuck in this place that I have no idea what or where it even is. And I don't hurt people. I save people."

"So you say. But what of me? You offered me up to a daemon! How can I trust you?"

 _I ᴀᴍ_ _ɴᴏ_ _ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴ_ , Mirqurios interjected.

A pained look crossed Sam's face. "I trusted you. I thought we could survive this together. Did I have you wrong from the beginning? Was this all some grand scheme?"

Mirqurios cawed a harsh laugh. _Y_ _ᴏᴜ_ _ᴛʜɪɴᴋ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _Rᴜɪɴᴏᴜ_ _s Pᴏᴡᴇʀ_ _s ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ᴏʀᴄʜᴇ_ _sᴛʀᴀᴛᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴅᴏᴡɴ_ _ғᴀʟʟ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ ᴛʜᴇ_ _Iᴍᴘᴇʀɪᴜᴍ_ _ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _? Yᴏᴜ_ _ᴛʜɪɴᴋ_ _ᴛᴏᴏ_ _ʜɪɢʜʟʏ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _sᴇʟ_ _ғ._

"You, too," Sam said, shooting a sharp look at the red bird. "You invaded my mind – how can I tell if you've already corrupted me with your vile presence? If your plan is to change me without my knowing – to doom my Commissar and the Enginseer -"

"Sam? I think you need to calm down -"

"Calm down? Words spoken from two that I should have never trusted? No! I am alone! I will find my way back alone! The Emperor's Light shall guide me now!" Sam said, making to retreat from the group.

 _Rᴇᴀʟʟʏ_ _, ɴᴏᴡ_ _. Aɴᴅ_ _ᴡʜᴇɴ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ɢᴏ_ _ʙᴀᴄᴋ_ _, ʜᴏᴡ_ _sʜᴀʟʟ_ _ᴛʜᴇʏ_ _ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _, ᴀɴ_ _ᴜɴ_ _sᴀɴᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ_ _ᴘ_ _sʏᴋᴇʀ_ _? Uɴᴛʀᴀɪɴᴇᴅ_ _, ᴀ_ _ʜᴀᴢᴀʀᴅ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴀʟʟ_ _. Iᴛ_ _ɪ_ _s ʙʏ_ _ᴍʏ_ _ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _ɴᴏɴᴇ_ _ɪɴ_ _ᴛʜɪ_ _s ʀᴇᴀʟᴍ_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ʜᴀʀᴍᴇᴅ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _. Wᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʙᴇ_ _sᴀᴄʀɪ_ _ғɪᴄᴇᴅ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _Gᴏʟᴅᴇɴ_ _Tʜʀᴏɴᴇ_ _? Oʀ_ _ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ_ _, ᴛᴏ_ _ᴅɪᴇ_ _ᴀ_ _ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢʟᴇ_ _ss ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ_ _ᴀᴛ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ʜᴀɴᴅ_ _s ᴏ_ _ғ ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪ_ _ssᴀʀ_ _?_

Sam tightened his lips, fixing his jaw in a steadfast manner. "If my death be required for the continued security of humanity, then let the Emperor's will be done."

 _Nᴏ_ _. I ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ɴᴏᴛ_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ_ _ᴅʏɪɴɢ_ _ɪɴ_ _ᴠᴀɪɴ_ _. Yᴏᴜ_ _ᴀʀᴇ_ _ʙᴏᴛʜ_ _ᴜ_ _sᴇ_ _ғᴜʟ_ _, ᴀɴᴅ_ _ʟɪᴋᴇʟʏ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _Eᴍᴘᴇʀᴏʀ_ _ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴜ_ _sᴇ_ _ғᴜʟ_ _ɪɴ_ _ᴛᴜʀɴ_ , Mirqurios bit out. Sam seemed to freeze as Peter could feel the power radiate out from the bird.

Sam turned his head back to the bird, loathing in his eyes. "Of course the daemon would try to dominate my will

 _Nᴏ_ _. I sᴀʏ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ʙᴏᴛʜ_ _ʟɪᴠᴇ_ _ᴀɴᴅ_ _I ɢɪᴠᴇ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴀ_ _ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ_ _: ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴄᴀɴ_ _ᴄᴀʟᴍ_ _ᴅᴏᴡɴ_ _, ᴏʀ_ _I ᴄᴀɴ_ _ᴘᴜᴛ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴏᴜᴛ_ _. Yᴏᴜʀ_ _ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ_ _s ᴀʀᴇ_ _ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪɴɢ_ _ᴀʟʟ_ _sᴏʀᴛ_ _s ᴏ_ _ғ ʙᴇɪɴɢ_ _s ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ_ _ɴᴏᴛ_ _ᴘʟᴀʏ_ _ʜᴏ_ _sᴛ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _._

Sam huffed, taking several deep breaths. "Only because I would rather face you awake than not."

 _Gᴏᴏᴅ_ _. Iғ ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴄᴀʟᴍ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _sᴇʟ_ _ғ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ_ _, ᴛʜᴇ_ _ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ_ _s sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ᴅɪ_ _sᴘᴇʀ_ _sᴇ_ _sᴏᴏɴ_.

Sam shot the bird another look.

 _Dɪᴅ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛ_ _I ᴡᴀ_ _s sʜᴇʟᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ғʀᴏᴍ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴍᴏʀᴇ_ _ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜ_ _s ᴅᴇɴɪᴢᴇɴ_ _s ᴏ_ _ғ ᴛʜᴇ_ _Wᴀʀᴘ_?

"Okay, this is all good and all, but we were discussing other ways to get out of the Warp, right?" Peter interrupted.

"Yes," Sam replied begrudgingly.

"And where did we leave off before getting sidetracked with the whole… whatever that was?"

 _Yᴏᴜ_ _ʜᴀᴅ_ _ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ_ _ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ_ _sᴜᴘᴇʀʜᴇʀᴏᴇ_ _s. Yᴏᴜ_ _sᴀɪᴅ_ _ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ_ _ᴀʀᴇ_ _ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ_ _s ʟɪᴋᴇ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _? Aʀᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇʏ_ _ᴀʟ_ _sᴏ_ _ᴍᴜᴛᴀɴᴛ_ _s_?

"Right. So, uh, yes and no. Captain American… he's got like, super strength from some sort of serum or something, and Mr. Stark – uh, Iron Man – he's got a really cool suit that he wears -"

 _Yᴏᴜ_ _ᴀʀᴇ_ _ʀᴀᴍʙʟɪɴɢ_ _. Aʀᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ_ _ᴀɴʏ_ _sᴜᴘᴇʀʜᴇʀᴏᴇ_ _s ᴡɪᴛʜ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴘ_ _sʏᴋᴇʀ_ _ᴍᴜᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ_ _?_

"Uh, I was just getting there. Uh, Doctor Strange! He's the one I wanted to tell you about. He knows, like, magic, and he's the Sorcerer Supreme and the protector of Earth," said Peter.

 _Tʜᴀᴛ_ _ɪ_ _s ᴘʀᴇᴄɪ_ _sᴇʟʏ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ɪɴ_ _ғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ_ _I ɴᴇᴇᴅ_ _._

"How so?" asked Sam. Peter guessed that he was able to set aside his supposed hatred for mutants and aliens and whatever. Escape from this hellscape to just go back home was a very enticing idea, and they were working according to his terms, after all.

 _I ᴄᴀɴ_ _ᴄᴀʟʟ_ _ᴏᴜᴛ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʜɪᴍ_ _. I ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ʜɪ_ _s ʙᴇᴀᴄᴏɴ_ _ɪɴ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴅᴀʀᴋ_ _. I ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ʟɪɢʜᴛ_ _ɪɴ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _sᴛᴏʀᴍ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ ᴛʜᴇ_ _Wᴀʀᴘ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ɢᴜɪᴅᴇ_ _ʜɪᴍ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _. Nᴏ_ _sᴀᴄʀɪ_ _ғɪᴄᴇ_ _ᴏɴ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _ᴘᴀʀᴛ_ _ʀᴇ_ _ǫᴜɪʀᴇᴅ_ _. I ɴᴇᴇᴅ_ _ʙᴜᴛ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴏɴʟʏ_ _ᴄᴀʟʟ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʜɪᴍ_ _._

Mirqurios looked back at Sam who was shifting uncomfortably.

 _Sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇ_ _s, ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴍᴜ_ _sᴛ_ _ᴍᴀᴋᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ʙᴇ_ _sᴛ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ ᴀ_ _ʙᴀᴅ_ _sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ_ _._

"But this way – we'll be able to go home," Peter said.

Mirqurios looked back to Peter _. H_ _ᴏᴍᴇ_ _ғᴏʀ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _, ʏᴇ_ _s. Bᴜᴛ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _Tᴇʀʀᴀ_ _ɪ_ _s ɴᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ_ _Sᴀᴍ_ _'s ɴᴏʀ_ _ᴍɪɴᴇ_ _._

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Avengers Tower, 2 November, Early Evening**

Linux steeled himself, not entirely sure of what to expect. His memories were arranged in perfect order, carefully compartmentalized to chronicle his existence and cautiously coded with security protocols to prevent data breaches.

At the edges of his mechanically heightened senses, he felt the intruding mind. Codes and programs activated before the human mind could consciously comprehend what was happening, and the invader was isolated.

Outwardly, he noted as the corporeal form of Doctor Strange collapsed into a chair. Banner and Stark rushed to the unconscious man's aid, checking vitals. Stark glanced at Linux with a look of animosity.

No. Linux would not concern himself with the outside just yet. He turned inward, focusing on the isolated anomaly.

++[Initiate Drive F:/ /] 01010111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00111111j% 5df% Foreign_Presence_Detected:/Ini? Query. exe 01001111 01110010 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101001 01110100 00111111++

++[Access F:/ /Curio] Investigate. exe 01000100 01101001 01110011 01100011 01101111 01110110 01100101 01110010 .Glri.a_Start/++

The anomaly stirred, condensing itself into living energy. It seemed to desire a form, even in this place without. Linux initiated several programs to assess the presence and defend his sacred memory banks.

"Linux?" the anomaly said. "Enginseer Linux?"

++[Acknowledge]++

"Is this… this is your mind?" it asked.

++[Affirmation]++

The anomaly seemed to condense itself to become a being of light, in figure a glowing shadow of the human form.

++[Query]: Who are you?++

"Who am…? We were just speaking. You allowed me to enter your mind."

++[Query. Rpt]: Who are you?++

"Doctor Strange."

++[Query]: How did you access this core?++

"I don't think I understand."

++[Query]: How did you come to be here?++

"I opened the channel between my mind and yours, but… it's never happened like this before," the Strange anomaly said, appearing to shake its head.

++[Stmt]: You breached my security protocols. You have entered my cores. [Query]: What is context of "Before"?++

The Strange anomaly angled its featureless face. "Before? I've channeled between people before. Normal people tend to picture their minds as familiar places – homes, offices, forests, oceans. But this? It's like no human mind I've ever seen."

++[ Aff. Stmt]: You are correct. I am more than human. My mind has been uploaded and categorized to the sacred cores and banks that you have hacked into. [Access E:/ /Muse] 01000101 01100001 01110011 01101001 01101100 01111001 00100000 01100010 01110010 01100101 01100001 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100100…++

"Well then, Enginseer. You must remember what we had been discussing."

++[Acknowledge]++

"Good. Then you can reveal to me now what you could not show the others earlier."

++[Negative]++

"What do you mean, "no"?"

++[Neg. Resp] Access to file in location M:/ /AMM/ /L1. Esysmem/ logfiles/syscache = forbidden. Doctor Strange + security clearance = false. Access denied.++

The Strange anomaly shook itself before taking up movement. Was it… pacing?

"Okay. I'm only the Sorcerer Supreme, defender of humanity. What other credentials do I need to access the file?"

++[.Stmt] Files = access. Mechanicus member. Must be 〉= Magos in rank. Alternate. Inquisitor = protocol override.++

"Inquisitor? Well, I certainly didn't expect to have to be the Spanish Inquisition."

++[Negative] Inquisitor = member of Imperium of Man. While Holy Terra = true, Imperium of Man = false of the current date 015.M3++

The Strange anomaly shifted again. "Okay. Well, your Imperium of Man doesn't exist, but I do. As the Sorcerer Supreme, I have a right to know when things threaten Earth, and you, my friend, claim to have such knowledge."

Linux pondered the anomaly's statement. Being in this far past Terra, the Doctor was right – the Imperium did not exist yet. He doubted that even Mars had been colonized. So, what did that mean for his protocols?

"So, will you share? Just the two of us? Or will I need to more forcibly take that memory? C'mon, I'm giving you a choice, here. I'm still letting you keep your privacy – I'm not rooting around everywhere. I need to know what happened so I know what we're going up against."

The Doctor was arguing the case of the safety of humanity, not just the private interests of Samuel Trembley or Peter Parker. But could he trust them? These people who called themselves "Avengers," were they trustworthy of his knowledge? Would they be defenders of Earth against all those that threaten it? From what he'd observed so far, they certainly didn't lack in way of resources. Their Abominable Intelligence was quite robust, and yet it was still malleable. It hadn't reacted with the complete animosity that had drove the world into darkness once. Would these people be like that? Malleable to the purposes of the Mechanicus? By giving up some knowledge now, could he secure more knowledge later? He was no Magos yet, the larger secrets of his order still occult to him, veiled from his databases.

++[Access Granted]++

He would take the gamble. He accessed the memory file and brought it to the fore of his mind.

As he reviewed this memory, he noted how even he had never reviewed the file. He'd been saving it for one of the techsorcists to purge it from his systems. Well, he certainly hoped accessing it now wouldn't put his other processes at risk.

The colors burned in his mind. Reality was torn asunder, and he found himself in the place without. Shadows of light and dark lurked, snarling teeth and vicious tentacles seeking him out as he floated freely through the aether.

"So… this is the Warp?" the Strange anomaly breathed. Linux could no longer see its form, but he knew it was still there, lurking among the code.

++[Affirmative]++

"Huh. Reminds me of another dimension I once went to," it remarked as the winds of the aether whipped about them, the place in constant flux. "Curious," the Strange anomaly muttered aloud.

++[Emote:Curiosity]++

"What's that light way out there?"

True enough, amid the swirling tempest of colors and chaos, there was a brilliant beacon shining in the distance.

++[Emote:Awe] That's… that's the Astronomicon! Only navigators and psykers ever see it! Never ordinary people like myself! This is phenomenal! It's the Light of the Emperor himself!++

Linux slowed the memory, turning seconds into hours as he studied the Light. He captured those milliseconds as a pict-recording, hoping that this memory of the memory may escape the corrupting influence of the Warp. It was, after all, a recording of the one who stood as protector of all humanity.

And then the moment ended. Linux's memory turned away from the Astronomican and back to the swirling abyss. The currents were rougher, now, swirling violently. Two other shadowed forms blipped into and out of his focus.

"What was that?" the Strange anomaly asked.

++[Assmpt] Commissar + Guardsman = true (?). We were lost together…++

Suddenly, the colors swirled again, and Linux felt a malevolent tug. Something forced open a gateway from the Immaterium into realspace, an invisible force coiling around his being and yanking him through. Whatever it was, it seemed as if it wanted him, as if it wanted _them_ on this Terra at this time in the past.

"Good God, what was that?" the Strange anomaly asked, standing near Linux's unconscious form.

++[Resp] Unknown Warp anomaly++

"I'll take my leave. We can discuss this back in the waking world?"

++[Affirmative]++

* * *

Doctor Strange breathed hard as he came back into his own. Linux's mind was… highly unusual, to say the least. Its mechanical nature made it alien in comparison to the other human minds he normally interacted with.

Still, he adapted and found the way to get the memory he needed, that bit of the Warp. It was a strange place, like so many of the other dimensions he dealt with. Yet, he didn't see the dangers that Linux described. Were they really there? Or is more of human superstition and fear of the unknown? And what was the significance of this Astronomican? Even from where Linux had been, he could feel the psychic power emanating from the source. Linux had called it the "Emperor's Light," but what did that mean? Was it a euphemism for something? There were so many questions, but he'd gotten what he'd asked for.

He'd seen the Warp.

Strange waved off Stark and Banner. "It's alright – this normally happens – my fault for not warning you," he said, the other scientists backing up to give him space. He looked to the Enginseer, still standing implacable as ever.

"Now, let me just say that wasn't entirely what I was expecting, but I've seen stranger."

"You were able to see his memory, then?" Banner asked.

"Yes. The corrupt file was shared," Linux replied.

"So? Did you see what you need? Can you make you make your magic work and open a portal or whatever so we can get them back?" asked Stark.

"Yes, and no," Strange said. "I do believe I can open a portal now to the Warp – I've seen the place, I know where I would need to be – but I would have no idea where to look for them."

They stood in silence for a moment, pondering their choices. Strange looked at Linux.

"You mentioned there were dangers in the Warp, but I don't remember seeing any while we were there," Strange said.

"They were there. All around, completely encircled. Daemons of the Warp. Could you not feel the pull of their taint?" Linux asked.

"No, I can't say I did. Was that what those shapes were? Demons?" Strange replied.

"Well, if there're demons, can't our good doctor just hold the portal open for us to go in a fight them off while we search for the kids?" Stark asked.

"No. The Warp taints. It is not something that can be dealt with through strength of force alone."

"So, what now? Strange can open the portal, but you're saying it's dangerous for him to go looking?" asked Stark.

"Yes. It is ill-advised to send anyone into the Warp, bodily or otherwise."

"Maybe to you, but Parker's our own. We look out for our own," Stark snapped back.

"At the price of death?"

"We'd all give our lives for each other."

"At the cost of your soul?"

Stark opened his mouth, then closed it, shooting a glance to Strange.

"Because when the Warp corrupts, it takes your very essence. If Parker and Trembley are still there, we cannot know if they are still themselves, or merely corrupted facsimiles."

Strange sighed. "I think we need to call a meeting on this," he said. Stark nodded and spoke to JARVIS, making the arrangements.

* * *

Kasia found herself and the others summoned back to the conference room where they had convened the previous day. Most were already seated and were speaking quietly amongst themselves. From the confused looks and murmurings coming from the others, Kasia presumed that this was not a normal meeting.

But then, when had anything been normal since they arrived?

"Alright. Well, now that it looks like everyone is here, let's get straight to it," Stark began. Good. Right to the point, Kasia thought.

"It was made recently known that the safety of Peter Parker and Samuel Trembley cannot be confirmed," Stark said. The voices of the others – these Avengers, as Kasia had learned – muttered about her. She pursed her lips as she thought. This should not be a surprise to them. Had they been anywhere within the Materium, their safety still could not be confirmed. Be it daemons or a Catachan with a knife, both were equally potentially deadly.

"I propose that we utilize the skills of Doctor Strange to create a portal to the Warp. He will enter – alone – and execute a search and rescue," said Stark.

"Why send him alone? Wouldn't it make sense to send a small strike-team? We don't know what's in the Warp – what sort of dangers he'll be going up against. Wouldn't it be better to send him with some backup?" asked the Captain.

"And what will you do when one of you become possessed?" Kasia asked, pointing out the obvious. "Yes, there are hazards in the Warp, but it will not do to act rashly. Not only could you be possessed or become Chaos spawn, there is a very real possibility of the very nature of the Warp killing you or driving you mad. It seems Stark and Strange are already somewhat aware of this danger."

"Yes. Tux was kind enough to inform us of some of the perils of the Warp. Trust me, Captain, I want to be in there looking for them just as much as you," Stark added.

The Captain settled back in his chair, clearly discontented with the response.

"I have several reasons to go alone. I have been to different dimensions before. If it's toxic or otherwise uninhabitable to normal people, my magic can sustain me while you would be needing EVA suits. Since this is an unexplored dimension, I don't know how it would react to modern technology –"

"It "fucks shit up," biological and mechanical, indiscriminately," Linux's droning voice supplied.

"– Thank you. As I was saying, it could affect Stark's arc reactor and then he'd be dead. Even I can't bring people back from the dead. Further, I have experience dealing with problematic entities. Remember when the Heart tried to take over the world?" Strange asked.

"No –" Stark said, furrowing his brows before Strange continued plowing on.

"– Of course you don't. You know why? Because I did my job and stopped it. I stop eldritch abominations from invading Earth on a daily basis. I know what I'm doing. I'll find them," Strange said.

"But good Doctor Strange! I could be of aid!" Thor interjected.

"That's a "no" to you, too," replied Strange.

"I can help!"

"Of course you can. Just like Jotunheim," Loki snarked.

"I've learned. Please allow me to come with you to find friend Peter," Thor continued asking.

"No. Again, I don't know what going to be on the other side. I have no idea how normal humans would react, never mind you Asgardians," Strange replied, waving his hand.

Kasia and Linux exchanged a look.

"I need to do this alone. I can't be worrying about any of you once I get over there. Instead, I need all of you to be more vigilant about Earth in general. While I am in the Warp, it's very likely that all manner of denizens from other dimensions will try to breach the wards I've established. If anything gets through," Strange shook his head, "When anything comes through, you'll need all your combined effort to slow it down long enough for me to send it back."

The other Avengers took in the gravity of the situation. Doctor Strange, the one man who stood between them and invaders of Cthulhu caliber, was going to enter another dimension, and they had no idea when or if he would return.

Stark and Strange continued laying out the plan, and Linux leaned over to Kasia. He spoke to her in their casual Vostroyan Low Gothic. " _Mechanic Stark originally wanted the same as the Captain,_ " he told her softly in his mechanical voice, " _But I was able to reason with him and the Doctor Strange to search for this other way."_

Kasia hummed in approval. " _Well, it could be worse. They could have actually tried to send everyone through like whatever those cultists were doing."_ She listened to Stark a little more. " _But you know? Whatever strange plan they try, I can't help but have some strange hope that it works. You know? I wish we could save Trembley. Emperor knows I do. But to enter the Warp again? We were lucky to have survived it once. The Emperor may not shield us again_ ," Kasia mused.

" _We are the bastions of the Imperium in this time_ ," Linux reflected.

" _Indeed. It is our duty to spread the doctrine of the Imperium to this Terra, and we will be unable to do that within the Warp_ ," Kasia commented. " _But… what if we find a way back_?"

" _The odds are infinitesimally small_ ," Linux said.

" _I know._ "

" _There are higher odds of us all dying or becoming Warp spawn than making it out anywhere, let alone the Imperium._ "

" _I know._ "

" _Perhaps if Banner, Stark and I had time, we could manufacture a portable Gellar field. It would help to keep us safe_ ," Linux offered.

 _"It's possible,"_ Kasia said, trying to organize her thoughts. " _Would your contribution breach any of the vows of secrecy that you maintain with the Cult Mechanicus?"_

 _"I may be able to persuade them to an exchange of knowledge,"_ said Linux. " _They owe me."_

Kasia raised an eye. " _That would be most advantageous. You would be able to bring schematics directly from a time before the Dark Age of Technology,_ " she said, a small smile crossing her face. " _You could nearly make a Magos out of yourself yet."_

The tones of everyone's voices changed.

Bruce spoke first. "Be safe, then," he wished the Doctor.

It would seem the Doctor was leaving now anyways, whether he had a way in the Warp or not.

"Make sure you bring them back," said Stark.

Doctor Strange nodded his head. "I'll do what I can," he said before using the sling ring to tear open a portal to the Warp. He stepped through the golden circle and turned as he heard one last voice.

"The Emperor protects," Kasia wished him.

The portal collapse in an instant, and Doctor Strange was gone.

* * *

As everyone filed out of the conference room, Kasia heard someone calling her. She turned and noticed it was the red-haired woman – Romanoff.

"Walk with me," Romanoff said. Kasia gave her a look but complied with the request.

In silence, they walked out of the Avengers Tower and onto the streets of New York. The chill of the late autumn air sent shivers down her spine, and Kasia pulled her coat tighter around her body, slipping black leather gloves from her pockets. She looked at her companion and noticed she, too, had donned a coat – she supposed it would be fashionably conservative, as it flattered the other woman's form, yet it did not stand out from the masses of other women.

"So Stark tells me the three of you are not from around here," Romanoff asked in English.

Kasia nodded her head. "That is correct."

"Скажи мне, это тебе знакомо?"

Kasia furrowed her brows as she brought a hand up to her discrete vox bead. "Боюсь, что нет," Kasia replied, forming the foreign words upon her tongue with care. She would have to tell Linux just how well his translation program was working later. He'd probably want her to join him in giving glory to the Omnissiah, too. This time, she might even accept.

"My fault to assume," Romanoff said. Kasia raised an eye. "With your name. It sounded Slavic. I'm Russian, so I thought we might have shared a language. I'm Natasha, by the way."

Kasia shook her head. "No. I do not think the people on this Terra would be familiar with it."

"Try me."

Kasia turned to look at Romanoff. "I come from the planet Vostroya. We speak Low Gothic – at least, one dialect of it."

Romanoff nodded her head as Kasia looked back the sidewalk in front of her. "Guardsman Trembley," she breathed, "That boy – I was almost unable to understand him the first time I met him."

"Oh?"

"Emperor – his accent was so thick whenever he spoke. It was the same for the rest of the regiment," Kasia said, a wry smile on her face.

"Why was that? Are you not from the same place?"

"Oh, Emperor knows we are all Imperials. But," Kasia looked back at Romanoff, "that regiment was _Cadian_ ," she said, as if that word meant all the difference.

Romanoff looked at Kasia in mild confusion. "I don't think I understand."

"Cadia is a completely different world from Vostroya – all the way by the Eye of Terror! Emperor! It was a minor miracle I could instill any type of morale in them at all!" she replied with a grim laugh.

Romanoff let the ghost of a smile cross her own features. "Sounds like you've got quite a number of stories to tell." She looked up at the façade of the building they were standing before. "Come on. Let me buy you a drink."

* * *

The two women entered the bar. Kasia figured Romanoff paid the cover charge, seeing a quick exchange of money between the woman and the man standing guard at the door. Not too dissimilar from home, she thought.

They made their way to the bar and sat down. Romanoff ordered something, and they sat together as they waited for their drinks.

"So, Sam and Linux. Did you know them for a long time?" the redhead asked.

Kasia shook her head. "No. This was my first time fielding that unit."

"Really? So, is Linux Cadian, too?"

"No, no. He's Vostroyan like me," Kasia replied, waving her hand.

Romanoff furrowed her brows.

"I know. Vostroya is his homeworld, but he's been with the Mechanicus so long he may as well be an off-worlder. The Priesthood of Mars, they have their own customs and ways, but so long as they can keep the machine spirits appeased and my vehicles running, they can do whatever they want."

There was a small clatter as the bartender set the glasses before the women. Romanoff uttered a quick word of thanks.

"So, what are we drinking?" Kasia asked.

"I thought I'd start you off easy. Black Russian," Natasha replied, raising the dark drink to her lips.

Kasia followed suit and hummed as she drank. "It's sweet. It's like… hmm… like recaff and rahzvod?"

"Stoli and Kahlua," Romanoff supplied.

Kasia nodded her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's nice. I'll have to have it again another time. What did you call it?"

"It's a Black Russian."

"Black Russian," Kasia repeated, forming the words carefully. "I'll remember that."

"So, what do you drink over in Vostroya?" Natasha asked.

"The Guard is rationed with rahzvod, but depending where you go and how many thrones you're willing to spend, you can find better quality within the hive cities."

"Does all the guard get rahzvod?"

"Oh, no," Kasia said, waving her hand. "It's more of an ethnic preference. Like the Cadians under me. No rahzvod for them. Most of them don't have the taste for it anyway. No, Munitorum rations them with amasec."

"What's that like?"

"It's from fruits and grains. It's a category by itself. Not very potent, but it fulfills the need."

Natasha let out a small laugh, a small smile on her own face. "You know, I really can't believe that they give you booze as rations. Doesn't that get in the way with performance?"

Kasia laughed back, shaking her head. "No – not at all when you're in flight. Helps to keep morale up. Faith and discipline are good, but everyone needs time to relax. Well, everyone but the Kriegers."

"Kriegers? Who are they?"

Kasia sipped at her drink, wrinkling her nose at the memory of the tale. "A planet gone bad."

Natasha furrowed her own brows. "What do you mean?"

"Rebellion."

Natasha nodded her head, as if that was all the explanation she needed. Kasia continued. "To repent, they destroyed their own homeworld. The bombs have rendered it lifeless, and those guardsmen who hailed from there…" Kasia shook her head, "They are… difficult to be around. As a cadet, I was attached to a small squad of Kriegers. They don't talk like you or I. They are quiet, introspective, and intensely focused on their mission. Effective on the field, yes. Personable? Absolutely not."

"Sounds like a strange group of people. I'm sorry for their loss, if it means anything."

Kasia shook her head again. "No. We all have our sins to atone for. No planet is exempt. But we can only strive to better ourselves for service to the Emperor."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, taking in the other sounds of the bar. Some men had joined them further down the bar. They were minding themselves for now. Soft jazz was playing from the live band in the other room, and the clinking of glassware could be heard.

"So, what about you?" Kasia asked.

"What about me?" Natasha replied.

"I've told you of myself and my home. What about you and Holy Terra?"

Natasha sat in silence for a moment, her eyes scanning Kasia. "Well, I told you I'm Russian. Honestly, my life won't sound nearly as adventurous as yours."

Kasia waved her hand. "Nonsense. You live on Holy Terra. This is the dream of every Imperial citizen. Tell me of your life."

Natasha shrugged and waved the bartender back over. She ordered another round of drinks. "So, you really want to know? Here, take a sip, and hopefully I won't bore you too much," she said, gesturing to the fresh drinks that the bartender just made.

Kasia complied, and Natasha spoke.

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Avengers Tower, 3 November, Morning**

Stark had been sleeping. He had just reached that critical point in the REM cycle where the dreams end and the mind becomes aware of reality once again. His alarm had not gone off – deep down, he knew that he still had another 20 minutes of sleep that were his. Drearily, he raised his watch-adorned arm to his face and cracked an eye open. Ah. He was mistaken. He had 22 minutes left in dream land. Nice.

He rolled over. A shadow in his room caught his eye. He rolled back over and opened his eyes. It was Natasha Romanoff.

"Why're you here so goddamm early?" he slurred, sleep still thick on his tongue.

"I thought you'd like to know if I'd learnt anything from last night."

He uttered a grunt.

"I spoke with Kasia."

"Who?"

"The Commissar. Kasia Poltava?"

Stark furrowed his brows. "Oh, right. The one with the gold all over her – "

"-Don't," Romanoff replied harshly.

"Boo. So, what about Kasia?"

"Well, she has access to some advanced technology. I think she has some sort of translator on her."

"What makes you say that?"

"She could understand me in Russian."

"Okay, but what if she's Russian, too? I mean, didn't you just remind me that her name's Kasia Poltava? I don't know about you, but that sounds pretty Slavic to me," Stark replied, hauling himself into a more upright position.

"That's what I thought, too, but her accent was completely wrong. And she kept referencing different places I've never heard of."

"Well, the world is a pretty big place."

"Vostroya. Krieg. Cadia?"

"Canada? Nat, you should know that one," he said, mockingly.

" _Cadia_. Not Canada. And she was pretty clear in describing them as planets."

"Planets? So, they're aliens like Thor and Loki?"

"No, and you'd be wise not to call them aliens. It seems they're rather partial to that word choice," Natasha said as her hand twitched for a moment.

"Okay, but why? I mean, they are basically aliens."

Romanoff shook her head. "Just don't. Apparently where they're from, humanity's made enemies with pretty much every single other race in the universe."

"Really? Everyone?"

"Everyone."

"The Asgardians?"

"Apparently she thinks Thor and his brother are from a planet she calls a "feudal world." Those inhabitants are the same as you and me – no god-like Asgardians there."

"So… she doesn't know that by working with Thor, she's working with aliens, which she hates…"

"That's correct."

"And," Stark rubbed his forehead. It was far too early to be having such a conversation. "you said they're from another planet?"

"Yes. Vostroya and Cadia."

"Two other planets… Wow," he said, blinking slowly as he tried to process the information.

"She mentioned they were part of a united human civilization known as the "Imperium of Man." They follow some kind of Emperor that they've deified."

His hand slid to massage the bridge of his nose.

"Also, you owe me $500."

Stark shot her a glare. "What? Why?"

"Girl could hold her liquor, and she has expensive tastes," Natasha replied, leaving the room.

Stark collapsed back on his bed, letting the sweet darkness of the room come beckon him back to sleep. He would work to let everyone else know more about these people, maybe see if Natasha could find anything out about their tech. Eh, but that was a problem for later. He closed his eyes, ready to drift back to catch another five minutes of shuteye.

Then the alarm clock rang.

* * *

 **AN** : Another chapter for you all. I just wanted a moment to write a little fluff between Kasia and Natasha. Thought it'd be a fun way to explore some of their similarities and differences, as well as plot exposition. Also FFN was not happy with a lot of the characters I chose to use during Strange's and Linux's mental conversation. Took some time to fix that up.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

 **? ? ?, The Warp, ? ? ?**

It certainly was different, Doctor Strange thought to himself upon crossing the threshold between realities. He had the vaguest notion that something was off. Wrong, even. And yet at the same time something felt very right about it as well.

Strange reached out with his mind, stirring the aether and searching among its swirls and eddies, looking for any traces of Peter. Parker was familiar. He suspected if he could find at least one boy, even, really, if he could only find one, then the other would not be too far. At least, that was what he hoped. He hoped they had the common sense of sticking together and the importance of teamwork.

As his mind touched across the currents of the Immaterium, he became aware of something other. Things that skirted around his consciousness, just close enough that he could glimpse their shadows, but far enough that he could not fully discern what they were. The more he tried to focus on them, the further they fled, leading him deeper and deeper into the void.

Something prickled his mind, and he saw it before it happened. A monster lashed out at him and struck his side, the phantasmal being hurting him physically and psychically. He grunted as he spun to take it down, only for another to appear as he turned his attention. They writhed in a dark tangle of gripping limbs and tentacles, seeking to draw himself into their essence. Their grip was suffocating. They were dragging him, pulling him. He lashed out, but it was too little, too late. Terrifying teeth and monstrous maws sought to consume him. He blinked.

They disappeared.

The future moment passed.

Strange struck out into the void with whips conjured of energy, crackling with the raw force. A phantasmal being materialized upon being struck, sending a psychic cry of pain. Wincing at the cry, Strange bullied through the pain, spinning and flicking his whips of energy at another space in the void – where he had the vision of the other Warp beast. Again, another ghost of a monster materialized, silently screaming through his mind as it worked its body to swipe at him. Strange twisted away, whipping both creatures with his magic.

The monsters skulked off back to the void. He was unsure if they were pack-creatures, retreating to bolster their strength. In any case, he did not desire to find out. He strengthened his mental wards before resuming his search.

Looking anew with his mind's eye, a brilliant light flared up at him, seeming to beckon him. He knew Parker's aura. From the few encounters he'd had with the boy in their past, Parker was familiar. This beacon, this aura? This wasn't Parker.

 _Cᴏᴍᴇ_ _,_ he suddenly thought.

Come? To where? Where would he go? He knew next to nothing of this place, never mind that it wasn't even really a place.

 _Cᴏᴍᴇ_.

There it was again. That strange thought in his head. But who was he telling to come? Or was it his psyche fracturing? Something other? Something sinister?

He checked his wards. Nothing was out of place, and yet he felt the thought again, like a siren's song.

 _Cᴏᴍᴇ_.

No. He was finally able to discern it. It was not his thought. It was a thought planted.

"Who are you? Who's there?" Strange called out to the void, looking around. Where was it? Was it nearby? Was he in danger? Was it like those strange creatures he encountered earlier? But those did not talk – they didn't think. They couldn't pierce his mind like this.

The light in the distance pulsed, flickering and changing colors.

 _Cᴏᴍᴇ_.

It was the light – the beacon.

"Why? What do you want of me?" Strange called back. This dimension held strange creatures - of that he'd already seen. Carefully, he worked his own magic, attempting to trace the aetheric signature back to its source. If it wouldn't reveal itself, he would at least try to discern how powerful an entity it was. It wouldn't do to place himself in further danger when he was supposed to be rescuing those kids.

 _Cᴏᴍᴇ_ _._

He grabbed at the thought, projecting his conscious. The world swirled about him, turning inside-out before he was abruptly stopped by something. Wards? Psychic wards? He gently pressed on them, testing their strength. They didn't budge. Whatever or whoever it was knew what they were doing. He would need to be cautious.

The world swirled about him as he returned to himself. He reached out into his surrounds. Nothing had changed. Rather, everything had changed, but he found no predators lurking in the shallows. At least, no predators of his knowing.

Cautiously, he made his way toward the beacon.

* * *

The geometries of the dimension folded in upon themselves as he navigated the Warp, carefully following the psychic trail that the beacon prepared for him. It must have imparted some form of warding, as the predators seemed to ignore his presence. Still, he continued in caution. He could not, would not blindly trust this being calling to him. But, curiosity would lead him to the source. He would discover why he was called.

Soon, he found himself where he'd been unable to go earlier. Where his astral form had found warding, he now saw those wards physically manifest. It appeared as a building, like one of those sturdy homes from ancient Mesopotamia, but with fundamentally alien embellishments. Looking with his mind's eye, he again saw the beacon flaring from within.

The door opened.

Cautiously, he approached the portal, unsure of what to expect from the other side.

"Doctor Strange!" a young voice exclaimed.

Although he knew better, he dropped his guard, rushing through the portal.

"Peter!" he exclaimed as he saw the kid. Peter had a huge dumb grin on his face. Standing behind him was another kid, likely the one Samuel Trembley, if the commissar and Linux were to be believed. Strange noted that Sam appeared more somber, but also had the ghost of a smile – relief, likely, was all that Strange could think of.

 _Gᴏᴏᴅ_ _. Yᴏᴜ_ _'ʀᴇ_ _ғɪɴᴀʟʟʏ_ _ʜᴇʀᴇ_ _,_ a voice said – no, thought. He heard nothing, but the words were placed in his mind all the same. It was the same voice that had beckoned him to come. It knew how to subvert some of his own mental wards, a fact which greatly troubled him.

He looked around, but saw no one. Suddenly, he heard the flapping of wings and saw a large, red raven alight onto Peter's shoulder. The boy shifted his stance, accepting the weight of the bird.

"Okay, uh, this is Mirqurios. He helped keep us alive, I guess," Peter said, gesturing to the bird as a means of introduction.

Strange raised an eyebrow.

The bird stared at him. Its gaze dug into him, deeper and deeper, as though it was trying to examine soul. He didn't like that. Quickly, he refortified his psychic barriers in response. He almost thought he saw the bird's face twist with amusement.

"Mirqurios? That's a rather interesting name for a bird," he mused out loud.

 _Aɴᴅ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ᴡɪ_ _sᴇ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ_ _ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _ɴᴏᴛ_ _ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ_ _ɪ_ _s ᴀ_ _s ᴛʜᴇʏ_ _ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ_ , the bird remarked psychically. A familiar sentiment, one that the Ancient One had instilled in him long ago.

"Of course," he replied, nodding briefly in agreement. "Now, I'll just be taking Peter and Samuel. Thank you for watching them, but I think it's about time we got back home."

 _Gᴏ_ _ᴏɴ_ _, ᴛʜᴇɴ_ _. I'ᴍ_ _ᴇᴀɢᴇʀ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _sᴇᴇ_ _ᴡʜᴀᴛ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _Tᴇʀʀᴀ_ _ɪ_ _s ʟɪᴋᴇ_ , Mirqurios replied. The bird didn't budge from Peter's shoulder. It sat as if it belonged there.

"Uh, no. I'm just taking the kids. Thank you for watching them, but I don't know who or what you are and I'm not exactly keen on bringing more unknowns back to Earth."

 _Uɴᴅᴇʀ_ _sᴛᴀɴᴅᴀʙʟᴇ_ _, ʙᴜᴛ_ _I ᴍᴜ_ _sᴛ_ _ᴅᴇᴄʟɪɴᴇ_ _ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴɪɴɢ_ _ʜᴇʀᴇ_ _. I ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ʙᴇᴇɴ_ _ʟᴏɴɢɪɴɢ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ_ _ᴛʜɪ_ _s ʜᴇʀᴍɪᴛᴀɢᴇ_ _ғᴏʀ_ _sᴏᴍᴇ_ _ᴛɪᴍᴇ_.

"What, the locals not to your liking?" Strange quipped back.

 _As ʏᴏᴜ_ _'ᴠᴇ_ _sᴇᴇɴ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ғᴏʀᴇ_ _ᴍʏ_ _ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴠᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ_ _, sᴏᴍᴇ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ_ _ᴄᴀɴ_ _ʙᴇ_ _ǫᴜɪᴛᴇ_ _ʜᴏ_ _sᴛɪʟᴇ_.

"Intervention?"

 _Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀ_ _sᴇ_ _. Yᴏᴜ_ _'ʀᴇ_ _ᴍᴜᴄʜ_ _ᴍᴏʀᴇ_ _ᴄᴀᴘᴀʙʟᴇ_ _ᴛʜᴀɴ_ _ʏᴏᴜɴɢ_ _Tʀᴇᴍʙʟᴇʏ_ _, ʙᴜᴛ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴀʀᴇ_ _ᴀᴛ_ _ᴀ_ _ᴅɪ_ _sᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴛᴀɢᴇ_ _ɪɴ_ _ᴛʜɪ_ _s ᴜɴʀᴇᴀʟɪᴛʏ_ _. Yᴏᴜ_ _ᴋɴᴏᴡ_ _ɴᴏᴛ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ ᴀʟʟ_ _ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _ʟᴜʀᴋ_ _s ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ_ _ɪᴛ_ _s ᴅᴇᴘᴛʜ_ _s._

"When I first entered, there were… things that tried to grab at me," Strange replied, thinking back to those events seeming only moments ago.

 _Yᴇ_ _s, ᴛʜᴏ_ _sᴇ_ _ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴ_ _s ᴀʀᴇ_ _ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ_ _ᴍᴏʀᴇ_ _ᴘᴇ_ _sᴋʏ_ _ᴛʜᴀɴ_ _ᴛʀᴜʟʏ_ _ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜ_ _s. Bᴜᴛ_ _ʜᴀᴅ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴᴇᴅ_ _ᴜɴᴡᴀʀᴅᴇᴅ_ _ᴀɴʏ_ _ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ_ _, ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛᴇᴅ_ _ᴍᴜᴄʜ_ _... ᴜɴᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ_ _ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ_. _I ᴡᴀ_ _sɴ_ _'ᴛ_ _ᴇ_ _xᴀᴄᴛʟʏ_ _sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ_ _ᴡʜᴇɴ_ _I ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ_ _ᴍʏ_ _sᴇʟ_ _ғ ᴀ_ _s ᴀ_ _ʙᴇᴀᴄᴏɴ_ _ғᴏʀ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _, ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ_ _._ _N_ _ᴏᴡ_ _, ᴄᴀɴ_ _ᴡᴇ_ _ɢᴏ_ _?_

Strange cast a look to Peter. "You've been with it longer than I. Do you trust it?"

Peter made a face, looking to the bird before turning back to Stephen. "I want to trust him. I mean, he did keep us safe. But, he did some weird stuff, too."

"I don't trust him. Obviously, he's not human. I don't know his intentions, and he lives in the Warp," Sam said, speaking up as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Yeah. Mirqurios kinda, I don't know, possessed him for a little bit of time?" Peter supplied, his voice rising in pitch at his suggestion.

Sam nodded, a flare of red coloring his cheeks and ears while his mouth drew into a thin grim line.

 _Tʜᴇ_ _ʏᴏᴜɴɢ_ _ɢᴜᴀʀᴅ_ _sᴍᴀɴ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ʙᴜʀɴᴛ_ _ʜɪᴍ_ _sᴇʟ_ _ғ ᴏᴜᴛ_ _. Hᴇ_ _ʜᴀᴅ_ _ɴᴏ_ _ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ_ _ᴏᴠᴇʀ_ _ᴀɴʏ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ ʜɪ_ _s ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇ_ _s ᴀɴᴅ_ _ʜᴇ_ _ᴡᴀ_ _s ᴊᴜ_ _sᴛ_ _ᴛʜʀᴏᴡɴ_ _ɪɴᴛᴏ_ _ᴀ_ _ᴠᴀᴛ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ ʀᴀᴡ_ _ᴇɴᴇʀɢʏ_ _, ᴇ_ _ssᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ_ _. I ᴘᴏ_ _ssᴇ_ _ssᴇᴅ_ _ʜɪᴍ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴘʀᴇ_ _sᴇʀᴠᴇ_ _ʜɪ_ _s ʟɪ_ _ғᴇ_ _. Aɴᴅ_ _ɪ_ _ғ ʏᴏᴜ_ _ʟᴇᴛ_ _ᴍᴇ_ _ᴄᴏᴍᴇ_ _ᴡɪᴛʜ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _, I ᴄᴀɴ_ _ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜ_ _ʜɪᴍ_ _ʜᴏᴡ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʜᴏɴᴇ_ _ʜɪ_ _s ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇ_ _s_ , Mirqurios said.

Strange looked back at the bird. "I'll keep that in mind, though it doesn't look like anyone here holds you in high esteem. It wouldn't be wise of me to bring an untrustworthy creature back to earth, wouldn't you think?"

 _Sᴏ_ _, ᴡʜᴀᴛ_ _?_ Mirqurios huffed, clearly agitated. _Is_ _ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _ɪᴛ_ _? Tʜᴇʏ_ _ᴅᴏ_ _ɴᴏᴛ_ _ᴛʀᴜ_ _sᴛ_ _ᴍᴇ_ _, sᴏ_ _I ᴀᴍ_ _ʟᴇ_ _ғᴛ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ғᴇɴᴅ_ _ғᴏʀ_ _ᴍʏ_ _ᴏᴡɴ_ _?_

"Well, this is your home dimension, isn't it? It's where you belong," Strange replied.

 _Nᴏ_ _, ɪᴛ_ _'s ɴᴏᴛ_ _,_ Mirqurios projected acerbically. Strange raised an eye, and he could see that Peter also hadn't considered the possibility. _I_ _ᴡᴀ_ _s ᴛʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ_ _ʜᴇʀᴇ_ _. Aʟʟ_ _ᴛʜɪ_ _s ɪ_ _s ɴᴀᴜɢʜᴛ_ _ʙᴜᴛ_ _sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴀʟ_ _._

"You can _not_ trust him."

Strange looked over to the speaker, his brows raised. It was Sam.

"We are in the Warp; he is a creature of the Warp," the youth said as if it were all the explanation needed.

 _I ᴀᴍ_ _ɴᴏ_ _"ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ_ _" ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _Wᴀʀᴘ_ , Mirqurios countered. _B_ _ᴇ_ _ғ_ _ᴏʀᴇ_ _ʙᴇɪɴɢ_ _ᴄᴀ_ _sᴛ_ _ᴏᴜᴛ_ _ɪɴᴛᴏ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ʀᴏɪʟɪɴɢ_ _sᴇᴀ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _Wᴀʀᴘ_ _, I ᴡᴀ_ _s ᴀɴ_ _Iᴍᴘᴇʀɪᴀʟ_ _ʟɪᴋᴇ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _,_ he said, looking pointedly at Sam.

Sam shook his head. "It doesn't work like that. Normal people don't just enter the Warp and survive."

 _Aɴᴅ_ _ʏᴇᴛ_ _ʜᴇʀᴇ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ᴀʀᴇ_ _. sᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ_ _ʙʏ_ _ᴍʏ_ _sɪᴅᴇ_ _. Aʀᴇ_ _ᴡᴇ_ _ʙᴜᴛ_ _ᴀɴᴏᴍᴀʟɪᴇ_ _s ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ_ _, ᴛʜᴇɴ_ _?_

"No. Peter and I… no." Sam looked back to Strange. "Don't let his words fool you. He must remain here."

 _Lᴇᴛ_ _ᴍᴇ_ _ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _Tᴇʀʀᴀ_ _ᴡɪᴛʜ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _. Yᴏᴜ_ _'ᴠᴇ_ _sᴇᴇɴ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ_ _s ᴏ_ _ғ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _Wᴀʀᴘ_. Mirqurios looked away for a moment, as if trying to determine what to say. _Iғ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ_ _ᴍᴇ_ _, I... I... ғᴇᴀʀ_ _... I ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ᴅɪᴇ_ _. Fᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ_ _._

Was it… pleading? This anomaly of life, did it really want so badly to join them in the Materium, on Earth?

"We cannot bring him with us. We cannot allow a Warp daemon to taint Holy Terra. It will herald doom for the Holy Terra of now and future."

"So, what? We just leave him to die?" asked Peter. "Sure, I'm don't trust him completely, but I don't think leaving him to die is any sort of solution."

"No, it is. Any other guardsman – any other Imperial citizen would know that their life is forfeit upon entering the Warp as we have," Sam said, his voice taking a shaky edge.

"Then you're in luck, kid," Strange said, slapping Sam on the back. The kid started at the touch that was meant to be reassuring. "We're heroes of Earth. We don't leave people behind, and we give second chances. Now," he turned his attention back to Mirqurios, "if we do bring you, someone will need to watch over you. Both of you, actually," Strange amended, twitching his finger to gesture to both Mirqurios and Sam.

"Me? Why me?" Sam exclaimed, indignant.

"Mirqurios suggested you may have powers. Barring that, you and Poltava and Linux are illegal immigrants to the USA and strangers to our Earth. We'll need time to make sure you are all properly adjusting to life." To make sure you are not a threat went unspoken, but understood.

 _I ᴡɪʟʟ_ _sᴜʙᴍɪᴛ_ _ᴍʏ_ _sᴇʟ_ _ғ ᴛᴏ_ _ʏᴏᴜʀ_ _sᴜᴘᴇʀᴠɪ_ _sɪᴏɴ_ _, ɪ_ _ғ I ᴍᴜ_ _sᴛ_ _. Lᴇᴛ_ _ᴜ_ _s ʙᴇ_ _ɢᴏɴᴇ_ _ғʀᴏᴍ_ _ʜᴇʀᴇ_ _._

Sam looked back to Strange. "I cannot make any promises. When we return to Terra, I will be back under Commissar Poltava's command."

"Well, lucky for you, Captain America and some other friends have probably already presented her the same," said Strange. "Now, then. Are we ready to return?"

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Avengers Tower, 7 November, Morning**

Tony sat at the table. His hands were clasped around a white mug, soaking in its heat, while his head hovered over the steaming brown liquid. It was too early.

He'd spent some time during the previous days trying to learn more about these strange "guests." Romanov had been helpful in learning about the Commissar. That woman, despite her fanatical devotion to some supposed strange "Imperial Creed," could pass as normal. He'd yet to get her to completely divest her uniform and wear something more normal, but she'd shed the greatcoat and hat. It was a start. She'd at least toned down the military fanboy look.

Linux was strange. He had an obsession with technology. He'd holed himself into his workshop and hadn't left for these past days. At least, he never saw the strange mechanical man leave. Not for food, not for the bathroom, not for sleep. Most definitely not for any sort of socialization.

He heard the clattering of dishes. Dully, he looked up to see Banner taking a seat across from him.

"Rough night?" the other scientist asked.

Stark just closed his eyes and sunk his head closer to the coffee.

"I've been trying to find out more about them. Natasha's learned a lot from Poltava so far, but the tech priest?" Tony shook his head. "He's guarded. He's holed up in my workshop and won't speak about what he's working on. He's got the whole place smelling like an auto-shop -turned-monastery."

"Huh," said Banner. "I would have thought you of all people would be able to get along with him. I mean, you both like tinkering."

"That's the thing. He doesn't tinker. Whatever he does, it's like a ritual. I can't make sense of it. And the book he sometimes consults – it's in their weird future language or whatever. I can't figure him out," Tony said, throwing up his hands.

Tony slumped back down over his coffee, cradling his head in his hands.

"Well… maybe I could try?" Banner hazarded to suggest.

Tony looked up.

"I mean, yeah, I'm more of a biologist, but I do believe that religion has its place within science."

Tony stifled a snort. "Right. You disappeared off to India or wherever. Thought that some "spiritual enlightement" or whatever could help you control the green guy."

Banner furrowed his brows, a look of annoyed agitation on his face. "Really?"

"What? What did I say?"

Bruce sat in silence.

"What? C'mon, just tell me."

"You don't have any respect for other people's beliefs."

"C'mon. I mean, really? I have plenty of respect!"

"No, and I'm not going to argue with you over this." Banner stood up from the table, empty dishes in hand. "I'm going to check on Linux. Enjoy your breakfast."

* * *

Linux was in Stark's shop. The man had such tools – it was interesting to see what mankind had developed before its fall. What measures it was taking while it still had yet to even take its first steps to the stars. This was the technology before Mars.

Primitive.

Ingenuous.

Mankind still had yet to discover the designs for machinery and tool or the chemical structures of the enhanced materials of the Imperium. Stark had made promising steps, though dangerously heretical ones, bringing Terra closer to its ascension. Perhaps one of Stark's own progeny – natural or otherwise – would take over and help guide mankind to the stars. Linux savored the thought for a brief moment before dismissing it.

Still, Linux enjoyed the access to Stark's technology. He'd spent the first days seeing to himself. After battle, normally he would tend to his own wounds, both of the flesh and of the machine. But because of the strangeness of time and coming upon this Terra, he'd been unable. He'd tried, yes, but he lacked the proper facilities. Rudimentary field work was all he'd been able to do, repairing and patching from the scraps of this primitive world. But now? Well, now he certainly had such choice of materials. Stark had not yet stopped him from requisitioning materials from the Munitorum of this Terra. Yes, there was cost, but he made no complaints of it yet. Perhaps the resources weren't as scarce as they were in his time?

No matter.

He had seen to the maintenance of his mechandendrites over the first few days. The mechanical limbs themselves had been in sore need of repair. Normal guardsmen wouldn't notice, but he knew that the plates casing the wires and tubing in the mechadendrites had been dented, making movement stiffer and slower.

Carefully, he'd detached the most heavily damaged mechadendrite from its mounting to his cyber mantle, laying the limb gently on the workbench before him. Immediately, he missed its comfortable weight upon his back. He then dismissed the thought.

Slowly, he set to work removing the shield casing. With gentle movements, he took it apart, chanting the Canticle of Repair to it and himself as he sought to sooth the machine's spirit. Gently, he set each interlocking plate to the side to be hammered out and refitted later.

With the innards of the limb opened to him, he inspected it. He exorcised the spaces between tubing and wires from dust and grime, revealing the deteriorating nature of those parts. Now singing the Canticle of Replacement, he removed the exhausted wires and clotting tubes, carefully marking each one and giving thanks for its service. Then, after verifying the purity of the copper and silicone components, he united them within the body of the mechadendrite.

He completed the Canticle of Replacement and resumed the Canticle of Repair, again inspecting the entirety of limb. When he was certain the spirit was appeased, he lovingly performed the tedious task of reattaching the protective casing, link by interlocking link. Finally, he reattached the limb to his back before slowly repeating the process with the other three.

Several times throughout the process, he became aware of the door to the shop opening and closing. Often, it was Stark. The man would never say anything, just observe him with the strangest expression on his face before rolling his eyes and leaving. Linux did not linger on examining those actions. If Stark needed him, he would know.

Once, though, Bruce Banner entered. Like Stark before him, Banner quietly observed him perform the maintenance rituals. Unlike Stark, Banner seemed more contemplative. He idly observed how the man's eyes tracked his movements, as if trying to divine what his purpose was in his actions. If he'd been of the Mechanicus, the rituals would be painfully common, but he was not. Perhaps there could be potential for Banner's catechesis?

He lost track of how many days had passed. Poltava had merely passed by the glass doors of the shop on occasion, but never entered. She likely had something she wanted to inform him, but deemed it was not urgent enough to interrupt the ritual. She'd been like that, even in their time. She respected the actions of the Mechanicus and their expertise in handling machine spirits. Perhaps some time later he would indulge her in conversation.

The door opened and someone joined him in the shop. He did not look up. He could tell by the weight of the other man's footfalls and breathing that it was Banner. Would this "scientist," as Stark had termed once before, have something to say to him this time? He released the thought and returned to focus on the Canticle.

He was nearing the end of the maintenance ritual on his curatio mechadendrite, again undergoing the meditative repetition of reattaching the casing. He quietly noted Banner move closer to watch.

Linux affixed the final piece in place, ending the ritual, before speaking in the old tongue of this world, English.

"Yes?" he asked.

Banner looked a little startled now that the tech priest's full attention had been turned to him. He recovered quickly enough.

"It's very interesting. I've never seen augmentations like those."

"They are quite common within the Mechanicum," Linux replied plainly. He initiated a calibration executable file for the limbs, and they began to twitch in the pre-programmed cycle to ensure that full range of movement would be achieved.

"Really? The technology that's gone into it – it reminds me of some of Tony's projects… Nothing at all that's available to the public."

"They are necessary."

"Necessary?"

"The Enginseer maintains the machines of the Imperium, wherever they may be."

"Meaning that it must be a mobile kit," Banner finished, nodding his head. "I've seen you work with them. You have a lot of control."

"Of course. They are fully integrated extensions."

"Fully integrated? Would you mind sharing with me how they attach? I'm something of a biologist," Banner offered, likely in hope of an explanation.

Linux shook his head. "The mechadendrites are a collection of STCs protected by the Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars. I cannot share such knowledge with the uninitiated."

Banner deflated. Linux tilted his head.

"I can share that it, similar to the prosthetics used within the Imperium, it connects directly into the nervous system."

Banner moved to examine Linux's form, a look of awe on his face. "In the future – you have that? The technology to make fully integrate prosthetics. Wow. Just, wow." He dipped his head closer to the mechadendrites. "It looks like it could have just been a harness," Banner mused, carefully examining the twitching limbs, "But you say it's fully integrated? How do you even power it all? There's no way a simple battery or something fits there, never mind the circuit board to help relay your mental synapses into electrical impulses…"

"A simple harness would not give the proper reaction speeds needed in live combat," Linux remarked. "The power source, too, is sacred knowledge of the Mechanicus."

"What a shame," Banner said stepping back, a wistful look on his face. "All of this – it could greatly benefit modern medicine." Banner paused, a small silence filling the room.

"I think you should work with Tony."

Linux tilted his head in confusion. "Why? Stark does not adhere to the precepts of the Mechanicus. He is not an initiated member. He has violated the Law of A.I."

Banner's lips twisted. "Well, no, it doesn't make sense when you put it like that. But I think that both of you hold such knowledge and skills that you could honestly develop something to improve mankind. Stark's been trying to branch away from weapons, but," Banner shrugged his shoulders, "weapons sell."

Linux nodded. "Indeed. The Munitorum is a robust department within the Imperium. Millions are employed in its service."

Banner shook his head. "There's more to life than war and weapons. You and Stark, you could probably develop such wonderful things for humanity. Like prosthetics," he said, waving a hand to the mechadendrites. "Look at you: you're from our future. You've seen things, technologies and works that we could hardly dream of –"

Linux cut him off. "No. Innovation opens the Anima to Chaos."

"That's a rather strange way to look at invention, but let me help you think about it in another way. Don't think about it as creating something new from nothing. That is impossible. But rather, there's all this research. You've probably looked around the internet by now, right?"

Linux nodded slowly.

"The internet is a vast expanse of knowledge – the expertise of every human, carefully collected into the digital media. And when we create things, build things, and invent things, we use the wok of those who've gone before us. We learn what they have done, what worked and what didn't. Just give Stark a chance," Banner said, lightly slapping Linux on the back, just above the cyber mantle. It was something the other Avengers did. Even guardsmen did it quite often. A sign of friendship and compatriotism. "I think you two could work on some great things together."

Banner exited the shop, leaving Linux to ponder their conversation in solitude. He was only an Enginseer. He'd been assigned to the Cadian 1214th to maintain vehicles, equipment, and the occasional body. He was a lowly tech priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus, not even a magos. And yet, he and the Commissar and young Guardsman had all survived mortal peril in crossing the Warp – well, he and the Commissar, at least. He felt the sadness of loss, a tiny, pitiful prick at the bottom of his mechanical heart, but that was all it was. Nothing personal, it was just how life was. The young died in droves every day in service to the Imperium. If he'd any hope in the youth's survival, it would have been vastly misplaced. Rather, he needed to focus on the now. It was just himself and the Commissar on a virginal Holy Terra. There must be some reason from the Omnissiah, from the Emperor, as to why it was them.

He shook his head. It was not for him to know. Not yet.

For now, he only needed to place trust in the Omnissiah. The rest would be revealed in time.

* * *

 **AN** : This took much longer than I expected to write. Battled writer's block for both this and multiple other essays, a killer head cold, and then spent a righteous good time bonding with my brother and sisters who were in the area for a weekend in February and again in March. Do forgive my negligence.

I am also including a short outtake – I ended up completely writing out a character in this portion (I don't know if I'll have him appear later). I really wanted to make the Boar Vessel meme work, but the setting just wasn't working with the new "canon" of the revised chapter. Enjoy.

-Pappenheimer

* * *

 **Outtake**

 _I ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ɴᴇᴇᴅ_ _ᴀ_ _ᴠᴇ_ _ssᴇʟ_ _, ᴏʀ_ _I ғᴇᴀʀ_ _ᴍʏ_ _ғᴏʀᴍ_ _sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ᴅɪ_ _ssᴀᴘᴀᴛᴇ_ _ǫᴜɪᴄᴋʟʏ_ _ɪɴᴛᴏ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _Iᴍᴍᴀᴛᴇʀɪᴜᴍ_ , Mirqurios commented.

"Yes, you've expressed you need a vessel. Can it be anything? Or does it need to fulfill certain requirements?" Strange asked in clipped tones.

 _Iɴᴀɴɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ_ _ᴛʀɪɴᴋᴇᴛ_ _s ᴏʀ_ _ᴀᴄᴄᴇ_ _ssᴏʀɪᴇ_ _s ᴡᴏʀᴋ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ʙᴇ_ _sᴛ_ _, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ_ _I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ᴍᴀᴋᴇ_ _ᴀ_ _sᴇɴᴛɪᴇɴᴛ_ _ғᴏʀᴍ_ _ᴡᴏʀᴋ_ _ᴀ_ _s ᴡᴇʟʟ_.

Doctor Strange gave his body a quick pat-down, trying to see if he had any non-magical trinkets on his person. He came up empty. He looked to see Peter doing the same, but with the costume he was wearing, it didn't look as if he was having much luck, either.

Suddenly Peter looked to Doctor Strange, a strange expression on his face.

"What?" asked Strange.

"Do you think you could get a certain vessel?" the teen asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Etruscan ceramic. 600-500BC," Peter said, trying to stop the smile that was growing on his lips. "In the shape of a boar."

Strange groaned. "Peter, we're trying to get you and everyone out of the Warp. If you're not going to be helpful, save it for later," he replied.

 _Wʜᴀᴛ_ _ᴅᴏᴇ_ _s ᴛʜᴀᴛ_ _ᴍᴇᴀɴ_ _?_ Mirqurios asked.

"It's one of those things kids say. A "meme" is what they call it."

 _I ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ᴇɴᴅᴇᴀᴠᴏʀ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʟᴇᴀʀɴ_ _ᴍᴏʀᴇ_ _ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _sᴇ_ _sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ_ _ᴇ_ _xᴘʀᴇ_ _ssɪᴏɴ_ _s ᴡʜᴇɴ_ _ᴡᴇ_ _ɢᴇᴛ_ _ʙᴀᴄᴋ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _Tᴇʀʀᴀ_ _. Nᴏᴡ_ _, ʜᴀᴠᴇ_ _ʏᴏᴜ_ _ғᴏᴜɴᴅ_ _ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ_ _?_

Strange shook his head. "No. It doesn't look like Peter or I have anything."

Mirqurios cocked his head, glancing quickly between Sam and Remiel.

"You know that you would be entirely incompatible with my gear," Remiel said.

 _I ᴅᴏ_ _._

Mirqurios looked at Sam once more, and Doctor Strange attempted to follow its gaze. Something gold glittered on the boy's wrist. Mirqurios hopped over to it, using his beak to gently tug up the boy's sleeve.

 _Hɪ_ _s A_ _ǫᴜɪʟᴀ_ _. Tʜɪ_ _s ᴛʀɪɴᴋᴇᴛ_ _sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ᴡᴏʀᴋ_ , said Mirqurios.

"Wait," said Peter. "Shouldn't you ask him before you take it? He seemed really religious. I don't think he'd like to part with it."

Mirqurios looked back to Peter. _S_ _ʜᴏʀᴛ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ ɪɴᴠᴀᴅɪɴɢ_ _ʜɪ_ _s ᴍɪɴᴅ_ _ᴀɢᴀɪɴ_ _, ᴡʜɪᴄʜ_ _I ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ_ _ʜᴇ_ _ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ_ _ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ_ _, ᴛʜɪ_ _s ɪᴛᴇᴍ_ _ᴡɪʟʟ_ _sᴜ_ _ғғɪᴄᴇ_ _ғᴏʀ_ _ᴍʏ_ _ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏ_ _sᴇ_ _s. Wʜᴇɴ_ _ᴡᴇ_ _ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _Tᴇʀʀᴀ_ _, I ᴄᴀɴ_ _ᴀ_ _sᴋ_ _\- I ᴡɪʟʟ_ _ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪ_ _ssɪᴏɴ_ _ᴀ_ _ɴᴇᴡ_ _A_ _ǫᴜɪʟᴀ_ _ᴛᴏ_ _ʀᴇᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ_ _ᴛʜɪ_ _s._

Mirqurios looked around _. Is_ _ᴛʜɪ_ _s ᴀɢʀᴇᴇᴀʙʟᴇ_ _?_

"It is indeed better than you possessing anyone," Sperro remark.

Doctor Strange nodded his head. "If this is what is needed to help us all get back to Earth, then do it."

Peter, too, gave a quiet assent.

 _Gᴏᴏᴅ_ _,_ Mirqurios said. He used his beak to snatch the little golden Aquila from Sam's wrist. The boy stirred, but did not wake. Dexterously, Mirqurios slipped the length of chain over his avian head, wearing it as a heavy necklace.

 _Sʜᴀʟʟ_ _ᴡᴇ_ _ɢᴏ_ _?_

"Right," Strange said, lifting his hands as he focused with the sling ring.

Behind him, Sperro gently lifted Sam into his arms. He heard flapping as Mirqurios landed on his shoulder.

The molten golden portal was opened, and Strange could see the meeting room from where he'd left. It was empty now. He supposed some time may have passed. "Just through this door here," he said, gesturing with his hand at the portal.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

 **? ? ?, The Warp, ? ? ?**

"Now then, are we ready to return," asked Doctor Strange.

 _Yᴇ_ _s. Lᴇᴛ_ _'s ʙᴇ_ _ɢᴏɴᴇ_ _ғʀᴏᴍ_ _ʜᴇʀᴇ_ _,_ Mirqurios voiced.

Sam surveyed the others faces. He wanted to go home – well, not home, but to at least be reunited with Commissar Poltava and Enginseer Linux. He was beginning to crave the familiar. And as big as he talked, he was no longer so sure if he would be willing to die to stay back to prevent whatever Mirqurios was from entering Earth. One day, he would face judgement for his actions here. One day, he would have to pay for his laxity.

But today was not that day.

He and the others gave a quick nod. The Doctor Strange did something, well, strange.

The man raised his hand, making a motion with them. The fabric of the Warp erupted in a bright orange flare of sparks. Doctor Strange concentrated on the motion, making the same face psykers would when they were concentrating on psyking. This man was using _magic_.

Sam could feel the Warp shift around them. It was strange, like water or wind flowing. As Strange expanded the flare, the currents flowed quicker and more violently.

 _Cᴏᴍᴇ_ _ɴᴏᴡ_ _, ʜᴜʀʀʏ_ _,_ Mirqurios projected. _T_ _ʜᴇ_ _ᴘᴏʀᴛᴀʟ_ _'s ᴅᴇ_ _sᴛʀᴏʏᴇᴅ_ _ᴛʜᴇ_ _ɪɴᴛᴇɢʀɪᴛʏ_ _ᴏ_ _ғ ᴍʏ_ _ᴡᴀʀᴅ_ _s._

Sam saw movement from the corner of his eye. Mirqurios' sanctuary was becoming unmade, and horrors were swimming along the currents. As the walls dissolved around them, Sam could see not only the small shapes of the "friendly" denizens, but the larger forms of the predators.

"Peter, Sam, Mirq – go" Strange said, jerking his head to the open portal.

Peter nodded his head and leapt through the portal first. Sam clutched his gear as he followed.

Going through the portal was strange.

It was like walking through a door. One moment, they were surrounded by the swirling aetheric energies of the Warp. The next: calm silence of an empty conference room on Terra. Sam turned to look back at the portal. Sure enough, the sparking portal tore a hole in the fabric of reality, showing the growing maelstrom of Warp that Mirqurios' sanctuary had become.

Mirqurios himself leapt into the air, taking flight. As he crossed the threshold, a change overcame the red raven. His form rippled, pulsing with energy. Wings became arms. Legs curled from flight extended and alit on the ground, the energy from flight converted to a walk. Red plumage twisted and knit itself into clothes: a long, draping tunic of red and gold, sandals, and golden greaves and gauntlets etched and worked with arcane symbols and embedded decorations. Feathers further formed into a mane of red hair, and the face of the bird twisted into a smooth copper human one.

Doctor Strange followed close behind and shut the portal.

"Huh," the sorcerer said, looking Mirqurios up and down.

"What?" asked Mirqurios, raising a brow.

"I really don't know what I was expecting."

"Surprised that I'm human after all?" he asked, posturing a little. He wasn't that tall – Doctor Strange still had an inch over him.

"No, it's not – I just couldn't picture a bird as, well, human."

Mirqurios snorted. "Well, it's certainly good to be back in the Materium." He looked around the conference room, and a look of confusion began to form on his face. "Where…?" he shook his head. "No, I can feel his presence. When are we?"

Sam looked at Mirqurios suspiciously. "It's the 3rd millennium," he offered slowly. "Why? Who's here? Who do you feel?"

Mirqurios turned his eye upon Sam, and the young guardsman shivered.

"The Emperor."

Sam breathed deeply. The Emperor – he was here!

"Uh, yeah. Emperor? Mind explaining who that is?" Doctor Strange asked.

"He's the Master of Mankind, the Guardian of Humanity – he's the God-Emperor of every person in the Imperium of Man," Sam said softly, his voice reverent.

Doctor Strange frowned, darting a glance to Peter and Mirqurios before looking back to Sam. "God-Emperor? You mean -"

He was cut off as the doors to the conference room opened and many new faces rushed into the room.

Sam cast a quick glance to Peter and Doctor Strange. Both had looks of relief as the new people entered – did they know them. Then Sam saw the familiar salt-and-pepper gray bun of his commissar and took comfort that he wasn't entirely alone.

"JARVIS alerted us the moment you got back," someone said.

A goateed man rushed to Peter's side, clasping the kid's shoulders. "You're here now – you're safe."

"Hey, I had some good people watching my back," Peter quipped back.

"I know – we sent Doctor Strange in after you."

"Yeah, but I had Sam and Mirqurios."

The goateed man took a step back and finally took in the newcomers. His eyes crossed over Sam's form in brief recognition – he'd likely been briefed by his Commissar – and landed on Mirqurios.

"Who're you?" the man asked.

"Yes. A very good question. Who are you?" another voice asked. It can from the back of the crowd of people. A man who commanded authority. A man who wore an eyepatch.

* * *

Tony stiffened the moment Fury spoke. He'd known that this moment would be coming. The moment that those three had made the news back in August, he knew that SHIELD would be interested. Why they hadn't helped when Parker and the kid went missing in the first case he couldn't understand, but now? It was the perfect opportunity. The alien Imperials were gathered in one location.

"Who. Are. You?" Fury repeated slowly, casting a look from Poltava to Mirqurios to Linux to Sam. Tony knew what Fury was trying to do. The whole room was silenced the moment he spoke – once he took command, his word was law.

Still, Tony had to give the Imperials some credit. They seemed mostly unphased by Fury.

The Commissar opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off.

"And what is your authority to demand our identities without revealing your own?" Mirqurios asked, leveling his own deep brown eye at the man.

"My authority?" Fury asked, calmly, patiently. "I'm no one special. Only the director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division, but you can call me Director Fury. And since you four have so mysteriously come onto my homeland, I think it's within my jurisdiction to inquire who such trespassers may be."

Poltava shot a stern look at Mirqurios, before facing Fury. "Director Fury," she began, her accent familiar to Stark. "We are Commissar Kasia Poltava, Enginseer Linux, and Guardsman Samuel Trembley, attached to the Cadian 1214th."

"So, you're on Earth as part of a military exercise?" Fury hazarded to ask.

"Negative," said Linux. "Our mission was on Vegzet I: assist the Mechanicus forces under the directive of Explorator Gieron to retrieve the STC for sanctification and addition. The Cadian 1214th was to support the mission of the Mechanicus."

It was the same as the first time they'd questioned the Imperials, Stark noted. Still, Fury remained impassive.

"And where is Vegzet I located?" Fury asked.

"It is deep within the Ultima Segmentum," replied Linux.

Tony noted that Sam kept sending glances to Poltava, who, very discretely, made a small gesture with her hand.

"And where would Earth be in relation to this "Segmentum?"" Fury asked.

"Terra lies to the West, in the Solar Segmentum," Linux answered.

Fury paced slowly before the four Imperials, carefully observing each one. Tony noted how he lingered on Sam.

"Where do your loyalties lie?"

The Imperials blinked.

Sam looked to Poltava. His nerves shown plainly on his face. Poltava, in contrast, was in much better control of her emotions.

"What do you mean?" she responded.

"Just that: Where do your loyalties lie?" Fury repeated.

"To the God-Emperor of Mankind and His Imperium," the commissar answered.

Sam repeated those words. "With the God-Emperor and the Imperium of Man."

"With the Imperium of Terra and the Adeptus Mechanicus," Linux replied.

"With humanity."

Poltava shot a look at Mirqurios, eyebrow raised in surprise at the answer.

Fury simply absorbed the answers.

"We still don't know the exact means of how you got here," Fury stated. "And this "Imperium of Man" is not something that exists here."

"We have been made aware," Poltava replied, a tension in her voice.

"So, you must realize the position that places me in. Three unknowns appear in Queens one summer day, completely out of the blue. Don't speak any language known on Earth. Strange technology. Even strange genetics," he said, looking pointedly at the young guardsman. "You disappear with one of our own into a strange dimension and return with yet another stranger. Now, we don't know the values and rules of where you come from, but here on Earth we like to know and document just who our aliens are."

All of the Imperials bristled at that.

"We are not _xenos_!" Poltava bit out with vehemence.

"Aren't you? You're not from Earth," remarked Fury.

"We are human! Our people, no matter their home world, have fought and suffered and died for the continued existence of humanity," said Poltava.

"So you say. But what proof do I have other than your word? Would you trust someone who just appeared on your doorstep out of nowhere and took up residence in your house?"

The commissar said nothing in response.

"I didn't think so. Avengers: Place them in the holding cells," Fury ordered.

"What? No!" Poltava exclaimed.

Linux's mechadendrites sprung to life and poised in a guard position, like snakes waiting to strike. Trembley swung his gun down from his shoulder and held it ready with long-trained ease.

"You should come willingly. You are in our house, after all," Fury remarked coolly.

A look of rage crossed Mirqurios' face for the quickest moment. Tony blinked, and he almost thought he'd imagined it, how quickly the man remastered his feelings.

"We will comply," Mirqurios said.

Poltava shot him a furious look, but said nothing. She signaled for Linux and Trembley to be at ease.

"Good," Fury said. "You just saved yourselves a lot of needless hurt. Captain, Stark: take them to the holding chambers."

 **015.M3, Holy Terra, New York, Avengers Tower, 7 November, Afternoon**

Peter was worried. Director Fury had first quickly ordered the senior Avengers to escort the Imperials to holding cells. The rooms were clean and equipped with beds, but they were separated, denied physical contact, and were under constant observation.

But now? With the Imperials safely under guard, Fury had called them back together for a debriefing. All eyes had fallen to him and Dr. Strange. They were the ones who'd traversed the Warp. But Peter felt a growing nausea in the pit of his stomach, unrelated to the time in the Warp.

He felt his guts twist sharply as Fury leveled his stare at him.

"Now, my resources say that you were the first to make contact with these people. Am I correct?" Fury asked.

Peter nodded his head nervously. "Mmhmm, uh, yes, sir."

"And your contact was over two months ago."

"Yes, sir!"

"So why has it taken two months for me to be made aware of this situation?" Fury said, his eye flitting quickly across the other avengers in the room before settling back on Peter.

"Well, uh, you see, uh, I tried – I really did. I had Ned try to make contact, but we were shut down every time," Peter said, his nerves making him trip over his tongue.

Fury directed his gaze toward Stark.

"Uh, I did try to keep tabs on them. I guess, I sorta lost them. They, uh, the hospital, I dunno. The police got involved and none of us could track them down," said Peter.

Fury continued looking pointedly at Stark.

"And what sort of message did you send?" Fury as Peter, not breaking eye contact with Stark.

"I'd sent it through Ned. Uh – he normally can break through all sorts of firewalls and safety features, but, uh, we actually tried you first, Director Fury, sir. Ned kept getting bounced back. So then Ned also tried Mr. Stark, but he didn't respond," Peter replied, sending Stark a "please forgive me" look.

"Look, Fury," Stark began.

" _Director_ Fury."

"-Director Fury, look. We all messed up in the beginning. Your people didn't let Peter's call through. My systems didn't receive it, either. That's the past. We have them now. What are we doing with them from here?" Stark said.

Fury nodded his head. "Let's start with what we do know. Romanov?"

"I have spent time investigating Commissar Kasia Poltava," the spy announced. "She, along with the one Enginseer Linux and Samuel Trembley, have no records. Those names fail to return any results in terms of identity on any system."

"Do you think they could be aliases?" Barton asked.

"It's unlikely. I've run facial recognition programs anticipating that. No matches.

"I've had the chance to speak with Poltava. Stark had been concerned. Her name and accent suggests someone with Slavic ancestry. She speaks as though she is new to the language and carries an accent, but one that is different from Russian, Ukrainian, Estonian, Belarusian, or any of those other Slavic families. And she did speak her language to me. It was… strange."

Romanov shot a glance at Stark. "You and Parker both mentioned it sounded like some sort of pseudo-Latin, and it sounds like you weren't too far off. But, it was layered with elements of other languages."

"Like Esperanto?" Banner suggested.

"A little. It was definitely different than anything I've ever heard spoken on earth."

"Anything else regarding Poltava?" asked Fury.

"Yes. She referred to something called a "homeworld." She named it "Vostroya."

Fury nodded. "Goes along with the Slavic theme."

"That's what I thought, too, sir. Apart from the language, it sounds like the Vostroyans share other slavisms culturally.

"Poltava also discussed with me what her title means," said Romanov.

"Commissar?" asked Fury.

"Yes," replied Romanov. "It's very similar to what we know commissars to be: political officers, rather than military, with the duty of "keeping morale."" Romanov paused, a strange expression crossing her features. "She also appears to profess a deep faith in a "God-Emperor." It appears to be a state religion."

"Very good. Do we have information from the others that support this?" asked Fury.

"I had time to speak with Linux a bit," Banner offered softly. "He had technology of the likes I've never seen." He cast a glance to Stark. "Honestly, Tony, some of it puts your work to shame. But he mentioned an organization. The "Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars" was what he called it."

"Mars?" asked Rogers. "Like, "little green men from Mars," Mars?"

"Hey, at least that sounds like a planet we know," Clint mused.

"Yes, Mars," said Banner. "He is… very different from the others. It's almost like he believes in this… I don't know, "cult of science?" The way he speaks of it, it almost sounds like a religion."

"Well, the Commissar did call him "Tech Priest" once. I don't think you're too far off there," remarked Stark.

"That's half of them. Anyone have information on Samuel Trembley?" asked Fury.

"Only what I was able to pick up from the recent hospital reports," responded Romanov. "Looks human, but he has an extremely rare genetic mutation. They don't have a name for it, and they haven't been able to correspond any further symptoms with it, only the manifestation of purple irises."

Fury raised a brow.

"His charts said they were natural. He's also a bilateral above-knee amputee. His records state he has a lot of war paraphernalia."

"The Commissar referred to him as "Guardsman," correct?" Fury asked.

"That's right," said Romanov.

"Did we ever find out how old he was?" asked Fury.

"I did," Peter said, piping in. "He said he was "17 Terran years.""

Clint whistled. "Damn. So, they use child soldiers wherever they're from?"

"That's how it appears," remarked Fury. "Do we know anything more about him?" Fury said, looking at Peter.

Great. Now the attention was on him.

"Uh, before we were pulled into the Warp, I think they were trying to blend in. Sam said he'd got a job as a grave digger, and he'd learned better English than the first time I'd met any of them."

Fury nodded. "And what of Mirqurios?"

Peter frowned. "He's… new. I know Sam doesn't trust him, but I feel like he kept us safe while we were stuck in that place – in the Warp."

"Indeed. He manifested strange abilities, not unlike my own," Dr. Strange added.

"Can you tell us more about these… abilities?" asked Fury.

"From my experience, he seems to be rather psychically oriented. He could create signals and wards strong enough to rival my own."

Fury nodded, turning his gaze back to Peter.

"Anything to add?"

Peter breathed. "He- we-," he shook his head. Should he tell Fury about the moment where Mirqurios possessed Sam? Could he tell him? As much as Mirqurios protected them there, Sam look of betrayal still cut him. "He does possess powers. Apparently being in the Warp awakened some kind of power or something within Sam, and Mirqurios… Mirqurios, I dunno, he, like, possessed Sam for a little bit while we were there?"

There. He said it. For good or ill, at least the rest of the Avengers would know what they're up against.

"Do either of you think he can do that here?" asked Fury.

Dr. Strange took a breath. "It's not unlikely. It's possible that the Warp was amplifying his powers – I felt stronger there, too. He also has some amount of control over his shape. He appeared as a red raven within the Warp. I do not know if he continues to possess either ability here in the real world," mused Dr. Strange.

Fury looked at Peter. "Do you agree with that statement?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, sir. He was a red raven the entire time – he would communicate with us telepathically. But here, well, when we came back to Earth, he became a person and he started talking. Without telepathy," Peter added.

"So, we know some smalls things about our guests down in the cells," voiced Fury. "We know that they're not from Earth. We know they come from a technologically advanced culture. We know they are deeply religious. We know that they are military. We know that they appear human. And we know that they have superpowers. What we don't know is their purpose here."

"When I first met Linux, and even again Sam told me, too, they said they were pulled through the Warp. That they're not supposed to be here. I guess kinda like just happened with me and Sam?" said Peter.

"But do you know? How do you know that you can trust their words?" remarked Fury.

"I, uh, well, I don't. I guess it's a leap of faith. They haven't really come across as hostile. And they've been trying to learn a little about us, I think."

"And are you so sure that their desire to learn about us comes from a general goodwill and not some ulterior motive? Are you so sure that they are not agents of some alien power trying to take over Earth?" Fury chided.

Peter shook his head. He hadn't really thought about that. Weren't spies a thing of the Cold War and before that? Sleeper agents weren't really a serious thing, especially not in today's climate. But what if they were vanguard of some expeditionary forces? Like space conquistadors? They seemed human enough; he even recollected how Sam had spoke of his disgust for the "Xenos" threat.

"I… I can't say for certain. But, I believe they can be reasoned with. Their religion – it revolves around someone they called the "God-Emperor of Mankind." I think – with a title like that – I think they are determined to protect humanity," Peter responded.

"Well, then," began Fury, a mockery of a smile beginning to grow on his face, "If you are so certain, let's have a little chat with them. Parker, Rogers, and Stark? With me. The rest of you are dismissed. I think we'll keep this a little quiet."

* * *

The Avengers – that's what they'd been called – had taken them down to these holding cells. Peter was one of these Avengers. It was strange. Those agents, they had dumped them in these cells. He supposed it was supposed to be like a prison, but they were clean and spacious. Nothing that he'd ever equate to any arbites.

Everything was minimalist and sterile.

Clean.

There were thick glass walls that separated Sam from Mirqurios, Linux, and Poltava. They were thick, but not frosted, and he could still see his allies.

He leaned back on the bed in his cell and stared up. There was a small device on the ceiling just outside the cell. Small and black with a tiny pinpoint red dot of light.

"The Abominable Intelligence calls it "Security Camera." This machine has a simple spirit, one that is cousin to the vid-picters of the Imperium," Linux had explained. The agents had promptly yelled at Linux for speaking in code. It was only Gothic. Every spoke it. At least, everyone used to speak it. Or maybe now will speak it?

Sam continued staring at the security picter. He frowned. Sure, these facilities were nice, but he could tell he wasn't the only one made anxious by it all. The Avengers were thorough. They'd confiscated their weapons and supplies. Diligently, each and every one of them had been isolated and given a pat-down.

As servants of the Imperium, they were all not pleased about being separated from their weapons. Well, all excluding Mirqurios. He didn't seem to have any weapons on him, but Sam recalled the powers manifested within the Warp and supposed that the thing – the man? – was dangerous enough even without anything.

Poltava had given up her bolt pistol more willingly than her plasma sword. She appeared to understand the need for separation: the lack of trust from the agents. The bolt pistol offered willingly, he supposed, must have been her interpretation of a measure of good will.

But the plasma sword? From the short time he'd known her, it was in this instance where she seemed actually distressed. To anyone else, she'd been tight-lipped and severe, a fury boiling beneath the surface, but he could see her rage and distress. When they were free – they were going to be freed, he hoped – he would ask her about it.

Linux, on the other hand, Sam saw that the Avengers hardly knew what to do with. He refused to be parted with his mechadendrites and resisted by refusing to offer the agents any assistance while they attempted to remove the limbs. If anything, he impeded their efforts by twitching the mechadendrites from time to time. Joined to the tech-priest by Martian engineering and sacred rite, those limbs were as intimately attached to the Enginseer as his own natural limbs. Without knowing the canticles and rites of the Mechanicus, neither that agent nor anyone else would be able to remove them. It would appear that while these new agents under Fury were curious about them, they weren't going to resort to vivisection. At least, not yet.

Sam was still upset by the whole intake ordeal, too. It had started simple enough: give up arms, submit to pat down. He'd seen Poltava go through it with minimal event. Obediently, he presented his lasgun. Not only had they confiscated his weapons, those agents had further isolated him the moment they felt his legs. Had they never seen prosthetics before? They'd wanted to take them from him to examine them – to study how they worked – but it was one of the Avengers – Captain America – who had stepped in and argued to let him keep his legs.

They had wanted to take his legs! As if everything else wasn't enough.

And the glass was too thick – it made communication almost impossible. He could see his allies, but he couldn't talk to them. Linux, he thought bitterly, still had his vox-bead. Of course, it was practically interwoven in to the tech-priest's form. Those agents hardly knew what was vital and what was ancillary when it came to Linux. Casting a glance at the Enginseer, Sam saw that he was meditating or something.

Poltava, however, was much like him, he supposed. She wore a deep scowl on her face. Her hands were clasped before her, and he noted how the digits twitched every so often. She was in thought.

They been down in these cells for some time now, the dull moments fading into the next. A noise interrupted their quiet meditations, and Sam looked up. It was the steady clicking of shoes on the floor. The agents made their way past the other's cells before stopping at his own. They produced a keycard.

"Come with us," an agent said.

Sam blinked a couple times, looking around. "Wha-? My commissar?"

"You alone," the agent replied, locking some cuffs around his wrists before transporting him to another room.

In the room sat several other people. He recognized Peter, the Captain, and the other man who'd seemed so protective of Peter.

The three adult figures exuded authority, though each had their own. The well-built blonde Captain reminded him of another Cadian commander he once knew. It was a dignified authority, commanded and leadership from trial under fire. He could respect that. The man seated on the other side of the central figure held a more casual presence. Laid-back, his form signaling that Sam meant nothing to him.

The central figure, however, exuded power. The man sat there, unperturbed by the sounds of the agents escorting him inside. He carried an air of what he'd seen in certain high-generals from afar. While he'd never had the chance to interact – being both too young and too raw – he recognized the man for what he was: in charge.

This man was the first to speak.

"Take a seat, son," he said, gesturing to the empty seat immediately across.

He did.

He found himself face to face with the man.

"You said you were an Army man."

It wasn't a question. Sam felt obliged to answer nonetheless.

"That is correct, sir."

"And just who did you serve with?"

An odd question, Sam thought as he slid a glance at the patches and emblems on his uniform.

"With the Cadian 1214th, officially. I was a Whiteshield for two Terran years prior, and in Schola before that."

"What country?"

Sam blinked. "For Terra. For the Imperium of Mankind."

The man's scowl deepened. Had he said something wrong?

"What's the Cadian 1214th. And I know it's a regiment, son. I've seen my share of Army men."

"It's one of the regiments from my homeworld, sir. Cadia."

The man leaned forward in his seat, his eyes boring deep into Sam's own. It unnerved him, and Sam was the first to flinch. The man sat back.

"Don't sound like you're from Earth, then, does it."

"No, sir. Both my parents were guardsmen from Cadia. It's in the Cadia sector," Sam added upon seeing a glint of confusion. "But, I am fully human, like any true citizen of the Imperium."

"And all Imperial citizens have purple eyes?" the man asked skeptically.

Sam blushed at this. It was the one thing that set Cadians apart from the rest of their Imperial kin.

"No, sir. Only us Cadians. They say it's from being born too close to the Warp. But that's it. Fully human. No signs of Warp-taint."

The man nodded to himself, most likely taking as many notes as he could, Sam thought. Still, it wasn't like he'd shared anything outside of standard Imperial knowledge.

"You're rather young lookin', too. How old did you say you were?" the man asked.

"17," Sam replied.

"Young, indeed," the man remarked. "Most kids your age would still be in school. Did your parents say anything on that?"

"No, sir. My mother was killed in service to the Emperor on Cadia. My father was serving off-world. But he sent his congratulations after I earned my place with the 1214th. And – I was in schola – I did complete it before enlisting."

The man leaned back, casting a knowing look at the two men by his side.

"This " _schola,""_ the man said, testing the word, "What does it entail?"

"Schola? It's… it's like a school."

"I know that much. What did they teach you there?"

"Uh," Nervously, Sam reached up and scratched the back of his neck. "We were schooled in the basics of what we would need to know for life, no matter which path we chose. We were taught to read and write Low Gothic, basic arithmetic, the history of the Imperium…" Sam said, trailing off, casting a glance down. He paused for a moment, recollecting his thoughts before looking back at the man. "Really, just normal things. It prepared me for life with the Guard, though I had some friends who pursued other occupations."

The man nodded almost imperceptibly.

"There is another thing," the man said. "A little rumor has suggested you might have powers."

Sam blanched at the accusation. "No! I have nothing of the sort! I am no psyker, only a normal human!"

The man cast a quick look to the man who'd embraced Peter earlier.

"What, exactly, is a psyker?" the man asked.

Sam steeled himself, forcing himself to beat down his emotions. He wasn't a psyker. It was a fluke of the Warp. He mustn't let anyone know. "A psyker," he began, his voice calmer, steadier, "is someone who has Warp-powers. They… they can be devastating on the battlefield, but they are dangerous. They are under constant threat of mutation, of Chaos corruption. The… the power that Dr. Strange had used to make his portal – it was very similar to a psyker's ability."

The man nodded his head.

"And you fear being a psyker."

Sam did not respond. Of course he feared being a psyker! How many of them went mad with power before succumbing to Warp corruption! Or those horror stories of the Black Ships, come to take people away! No, he was no psyker. Anything that the creature Mirqurios suggested was false. He spoke of lies. He could not be a psyker.

The man's lips curled into a small smile before he waved a hand, gesturing for the agents to lead Sam back to his cell.

* * *

Poltava was in her cell, reciting silent litanies to the Emperor. She'd hoped she'd made the right decision by complying with these people. They had stripped them of their gear, they had taken her sword! It was her father's and her father's father and so on, passed down a long line of Vostroyan commissars. She knew she shouldn't let something sentimental like a simple sword get to her, but between that, being cast into this strange Terran past, and now being virtually separated from her last ties to the Imperium she knew, it was weighing on her.

She thumbed another bead on her rosary. It was a simple thing, unlike the powerful amulets of Chaplains. It did not provide any earthly protection, merely solace for her own tumultuous thoughts. The little aquila grounded her.

There was a sound, and she looked up to see Trembley return, hands cuffed and flanked by two of those agents. She knew he could have easily taken them – any of their three could have taken those agents with ease, she mused to herself – but hope for peace between fellow humans tempered their martial spirits.

She watched them maneuver Trembley back to his cell before moving on.

Her.

They were coming for her.

She steeled her features, obediently offering her hands, her compliance.

They led her through hallways and into a room with four people in it. She recognized Stark and the Captain America. She guessed that the kid in the back was likely that Peter Parker, the one who'd been lost with Samuel.

But the man in the center? He was unknown.

"Have a seat," the man said, gesturing to the metal chair seated opposite himself.

She acquiesced.

"The least you could do is let these cuffs off," she remarked, holding up her bound hands as she sat.

A ghost of a smile played on the man's lips as he huffed a half-laugh. "Not going to happen."

She nodded curtly, accepting the decision.

"You said you were in the middle of an assault before arriving here. Mind telling me more about it?"

Kasia studied him for a brief moment. He was there to conduct an interrogation, likely trying to decide if they could trust her and her men. But, on the other side of the token, could she trust them in return?

"On Vegzet 1. I was the Commissar attached to the Cadian 1214th. Under the command of Explorator Gieron, our regiment was to aid the Mechanicus forces in securing a relic."

She paused, thinking of what to give and what to hold safe.

"Tell me: what do you know of the relic?" the man asked.

She shook her head. "That was not of my concern. The relic is an artifact that I can only assume holds great significance for the Mechanicus, but if it were a lost technology, it could possibly bolster the entirety of the Imperium."

"And, Commissar Poltava, what is your place in the Imperium?"

"I am but a servant of the Emperor's will. I live to inspire those brave men and women in my charge."

"And his will?"

"For the continued safety of humanity. That humans, no matter where they were born, can live safely and peacefully without the threat of xenos aggression. We of the Astra Militarum are that first line of defense, and we offer ourselves fully and truly for the sake of our fellow men."

"An honorable mission."

"Thank you, but while prospects of honor and glory may be tools to inspire my men, that is not what I seek."

The man raised an eye. "Really, now?"

"Indeed. I fight today in the hope that the children of my future may one day live in peace in the eternal protection of the Emperor."

"Then it would appear our goals are not too dissimilar," the man said, flashing a quick smile. "There is no Emperor here. You speak of humanity as a united front. Our world is divided. Nations war with each other."

Kasia harrumphed. "I remember from my own years in schola. I think such a time was called the Age of Strife?" Kasia shook her head. "No, but that is beside the point."

"You say you come from a time where mankind is united and struggling to hold off the threat of… xenos? Well, mankind is divided, but the alien threat is growing."

This time, Kasia raised her eye.

"We've had issues in the past, events that have woken us from our delusion of safety. The galaxy isn't as small as many would have us believe."

Kasia nodded, her lips curling into a small smile. "It seems we may not be so different after all."

"I'm releasing you back to your cell, now, but I trust you have plenty to think on."

"I will," Kasia replied as she let the agents lead her back.

It had gone somewhat better than she had expected. The man, had he been born within the Imperium, likely would have made it far.

Another time…

* * *

Linux looked up. The agents had returned with the Commissar. From cursory scans, he could detect that no harm had come to her. That was well. It would have been a waste if she had been damaged in any way.

The agents had turned their attention toward himself. It appeared as though they did not quite know what to make of him. He had seen them place handcuffs around Trembley and Poltava. The next logical assumption would be that they intended to cuff him as well and lead him off. Following their gaze, he surmised that they were unsure of how to neutralize his mechadendrites.

"Give us your hands," an agent ordered. He did as commanded. Resistance would be illogical. No gains were to be had should he resist.

"Alright, easy. Got the taser ready?" one agent spoke quickly and softly to the other.

"Unnecessary. Resisting you fails to benefit me," Linux stated in this Terra's common.

The agents exchanged a look before roughly ushering him forward.

They led him into a room. Solid. Plain. Single entry. One-way mirror. Their interactions would be observed.

He passed three seated individuals and one youth standing near the door. Two of the individuals he knew. Stark of the heretical technologies, and the Captain.

They boy he'd seen before, when the Guardsman reappeared with the psyker and the Engima.

The agents passed him deeper into the room. The four would block his way should he try to escape from the door.

The man, he noticed, had his attention fixed on him.

"Would you mind removing your hood, so we might talk face to face?" the man asked. "I like to know the face of who I talk to."

Linux brought two mechanized limbs to the sides of his hood. With religious deliberation, he lowered the red and black accented fabric from his head. His optics shown clearly now, his eyes both replaced long ago with the green cybernetic augments. His mouth remained hidden by the rebreather strapped to his face. His dark hair, shorn close to his skull, showed the traceries of scars. One appeared medical in nature, curving from the frontal, gliding through the temporal, and ending back near the occipital lobes. Small gauge wires snaked from the different lobes. Some went to where his ears should have been, again replaced with audio-receivers, and a few sparse others were woven together, snaking down below the fabric of the red robes. He knew that those where but ancillary connections to his cyber-mantle. They didn't.

The man, to Linux's mild surprise, concealed his perturbation well.

"I've been hearing different things about you, Enginseer," the man stated, purposefully using his title. Linux did not engage the situation.

"Word has it that you're from the future. That you had been looking for something."

"Affirmative."

"When?"

"999.M41."

"What were you searching for?"

"The specifications of the Artifact were not revealed to me."

"What was your purpose on the mission, if you had no idea of what you were looking for."

"My role was clear: Enginseer."

"And what does being "Enginseer" entail?"

"Ministering the Sacred Rites to the Machine Spirits during combat."

"Sounds like a heavy duty. Tell me: are there many more like you?"

"Affirmative."

"Is this now, or in your time?"

"In 999.M41. Enginseers are commonly attached to guard companies."

"Your commissar mentioned something about an "Explorator Gieron" earlier. Who is he?"

"He was our leader until our unforeseen separation. He commanded one of the Exploration Fleets within the Adeptus Mechanicus navy."

"Your commissar spoke of loyalties to a human Imperium. What is this Adeptus Mechanicus?"

"Nothing further that you need know, only that it is aligned in the mission of the Imperium," Linux replied. The questions were becoming tedious. He had better things to do with his time.

"I think I do need to know. You say you're aligned with the Imperium, but in what way? What are you willing to give us to prove your good faith?"

"Why must we prove our goodness to you? We are not the ones who locked up other humans on suspicion."

"But you have illegally entered our territories, armed with strange weapons. You can't tell me that such an action wouldn't give you or your leaders concern either."

"This is Terra. It is within Imperial Territories. We are within our rights to be here."

"Your Imperium doesn't exist," the man bit, his voice colored by tension. "Not now. You're here on my Earth, in my country, and I will do what it takes to ensure that my people are safe. You either play by my rules, or you welcome the long sleep."

Linux stared at the man for a moment, letting a silence fall between them.

"I'll ask you one more time: What is the Adeptus Mechanicus?"

"It is the core governing body of science and technology within the Imperium. It does not adhere to all Imperial codes, but it has been a consistent ally in the Imperium's time of need."

"Very good. That wasn't so hard now, was it?" the man asked rhetorically. "So, tell me more. You've got some interesting gadgets on you. We've been kind enough to leave you intact. Mind enlightening us to some of their functions? Maybe share some of that knowledge for the greater good of humanity?"

Linux shook his head. "Negative. All technology is protected by the ministrations of the Adeptus Mechanicus. No other Departmento is permitted knowledge of the Sancta Machina."

"Then, perhaps we can work out… other arrangements. Think on it."

The man dismissed Linux back to his cell.

* * *

The interrogations had been taxing, especially that last one with Mirqurios, Stark thought to himself.

Fury assembled them all in the conference room once more. He wanted to review the new facts and make a decision. If they were dangerous, he was going to want them locked up safe and secured as soon as possible. But if they could be useful? Then, again, he wanted to know. Tony knew he'd want to know if he were the ones making decisions. At the same time, he also didn't want to have the responsibility of holding anyone on his property for any long length of time. It was something that didn't fully sit right with him.

Fury stood at the head of the table in the conference room.

"The goal of this meeting is to determine whether or not these "Imperial" citizens are a threat. You were all there when the interrogations were conducted. Tell me: what are your opinions of these uninvited guests?" Fury asked.

There was silence while the heroes thought.

"Commissar Poltava has potential, as does Guardsman Trembley. They seem like good soldiers, even good people at heart," the Captain said first.

"But what of their fanaticism? Their loyalty to the Imperium of man? I think that could pose a pretty big problem," replied Stark.

"That's true, but I think we can use that to our advantage. They don't seem quite as rigid as that Enginseer. I think we can use their dedication for humanity to help us defend against other threats," voiced Romanov.

"What of the Enginseer? He's secretive of his knowledge, and pretty resist and stubborn, too. He's not a team player. I know I had a hard-enough time as it was trying to get anything out of him," said Tony.

"Okay, but did you ever try talking to him?" asked Banner.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I did. He yelled at me and called me a heretic. Something something my JARVIS is an abomination and should be purged in the name of the machine god or whatever," Tony replied.

"But did you ever try understanding him?" Banner tried again.

"No! He would have nothing to do with me, and, quite frankly, if he's gonna be like that, I wouldn't want to share my designs with him, either."

Banner sighed. "I found him doing maintenance once, and he let me watch. He never explained precisely what he was doing, but his maintenance was ritualistic. I think, with patience, we might be able to learn more about Enginseer Linux and turn him into an asset."

"Okay, that's all good, but what about those psyker powers? Trembley was denying he had them, but when we questioned Mirqurios, he affirmed it. We've got two bogies of unknown danger potential. I don't think we can just let these guys walk around," remarked Clint.

A couple others voiced their affirmations of Barton's statement.

Fury's voice rose above the others. "Doctor Strange," he began, resting his gaze upon the magical doctor. The voices fell silent. "You are the Sorcerer Supreme. Mirqurios and Samuel Trembley are yours. If they are at all magically capable, it is within your jurisdiction to end the threat, is it not?"

Strange returned Fury a solemn nod.

"Good. You'll keep them in line. I'll expect regular reports from you."

"Wait, but sir! Samuel Trembley is a child," began Captain America.

"Indeed. Which is why the responsibility will fall to our good Doctor to ensure that he is enrolled with a school program to facilitate his transition into our society," Fury replied.

"Uh, actually, sir? Can I make a suggestion?" Peter piped up from the back.

Fury raised a brow. Peter hesistated. "Well, go on! Don't make us wait forever."

"Oh! Uh, well, I figured since we're both kids, uh, more or less, that maybe if Sam was enrolled in school with me, since, y'know, I've kinda sort of known him since August and then there was the whole Warp-"

"Get to the point, Parker," Fury bit.

"Right! Uh, yessir. So, I think if Sam and I went to school, I could help him with both the regular teen stuff and hero stuff. Sir," Peter finished

"Noted," Fury said, returning his attention back to the others. "Now, what of the Commissar and the Enginseer?"

"I think that if they get some help in the transition process, they can be productive members of society," said the Captain.

"Okay, and who's going to do that? I don't think the Enginseer will ever be able to fit in. Give the Commissar a change of clothes, but the Enginseer? Nuh-uh," said Stark.

"The Commissar is a key part of their relationships. You saw it. The Guardsman looks up to her, and even the Enginseer gives some small grudging amount of respect. The Commissar with help the Enginseer. Heck, she might even help Banner get some schematics or something," replied the Captain.

"Now you're dreaming," Stark replied, shaking his head. "I think one of us would need to watch the Enginseer. Keep him under our thumb until we know that he's not going to build a robot army or something."

"Yeah, because it's not like you would ever do the same," snarked Barton.

Tony shot Clint a glare before Fury ended the fight that had yet to begin.

"I think we now know what to do with these visitors. Shall we officially offer them our welcome?" Fury asked, gesturing the heroes to follow him down to the cells.

* * *

Sam looked up as he heard footsteps again. He noted that the others noticed the noises, too, and were looking on expectantly.

The man from the interrogation was the first to enter the cellblock, though he was soon flanked by the Captain, the other man, and several other people.

"Good. You're all still awake. We've reached a consensus," the man said.

"What will you do with us?" Commissar Poltava asked.

"We have agreed to grant you certain liberties – with constraints," said the man.

Sam shot his commissar a look. With constraints? What did that mean? Were the free to go? Or something else? He snuck a glance at the Enginseer, but Linux was impassive as usual.

"Commissar Kasia Poltava and Enginseer Linux," the man announced in a strong voice. "Stark," the man tossed a brief glance at the man flanking him, "Has generously agreed to allow you continued residence here in the Avengers Tower. You will have access to your own private quarters and amenities as you have been during this past week during the search for Parker and Trembley."

"No. Absolutely not," Poltava said, giving her head a quick shake. "We have our own place. We shall live independently."

The man's expression did not change. Rather, he stood in silence for a brief second. "Would you consent to having a daily house-call from one of the Avengers in order to ease your transition into the customs of our society?" he asked, a vaguely threatening tone in his voice.

The Commissar stood in her cell in silence. One could almost see her mind thinking. Deliberately, she cast a glance at Linux. Finally, she spoke. "That would be agreeable."

The man nodded. "Mirqurios and Sam," he announced anew. "You are to reside with Doctor Strange in his Sanctum Sanctorum. He will tutor you and again aid in your transition into our society."

Sam shot an uneasy look at his commissar. Be further separated from his regiment? And be sent to live with that… that Warp-spawn? No!

"That sounds agreeable," replied Mirqurios, a strange look in his green eye.

"Absolutely not," replied Commissar Poltava. "I request that Guardsman Trembley not be further separated from his unit."

"Will you arrange for schooling?" asked the man.

" _Schola_? He's graduated _schola_. There is no need for that. He's entirely capable," said Poltava.

"No, high school. It's where kids 14-18 go to learn. If Trembley is to live with you and the Enginseer, he will be required to attend Midtown High School during the day and see Doctor Strange afterward."

Poltava stood in silence again. If it meant being with his Commissar and Linux again…

"I agreed," said Sam.

"Very good, then. The matter is settled. And you all?" Fury said, turning his attention to the Avengers as he made to exit the room, "Remember: I expect your reports."

* * *

 **AN: I apologize for the delay in posting. Life got busy.**


End file.
